The Only Cure For Vanity Is Laughter.

And I Also See How This Body Influences External Images: It Gives Back Movement To Them.

Laughter Appears To Stand In Need Of An Echo, Listen To It Carefully: It Is Not An Articulate, Clear, Well-defined Sound; It Is Something Which Would Fain Be Prolonged By Reverberating From One To Another, Something Beginning With A Crash, To Continue In Successive Rumblings, Like Thunder In A Mountain.

Men Do Not Sufficiently Realize That Their Future Is In Their Own Hands. Theirs Is The Task Of Determining First Of All Whether They Want To Go On Living Or Not. Theirs Is The Responsibility, Then, For Deciding If They Want Merely To Live, Or Intend To Make Just The Extra Effort Required For Fulfilling, Even On This Refractory Planet, The Essential Function Of The Universe, Which Is A Machine For The Making Of Gods.

It Is Emotion That Drives The Intelligence Forward In Spite Of Obstacles.

In Reality, The Past Is Preserved By Itself Automatically.