The Reward Of Labour Is Life. Is

So With This Earthly Paradise It Is, If Ye Will Read Aright, And Pardon Me, Who Strive To Build A Shadowy Isle Of Bliss Midmost The Beating Of The Steely Sea.

It Is The Childlike Part Of Us That Produces Works Of The Imagination. When We Were Children Time Passed So Slow With Us That We Seemed To Have Time For Everything.

A Good Way To Rid One's Self Of A Sense Of Discomfort Is To Do Something. That Uneasy, Dissatisfied Feeling Is Actual Force Vibrating Out Of Order; It May Be Turned To Practical Account By Giving Proper Expression To Its Creative Character.

Not On One Strand Are All Life's Jewels Strung.

Nothing Should Be Made By Man's Labour Which Is Not Worth Making, Or Which Must Be Made By Labour Degrading To The Makers.