The Rich Know Not How Hard It

The Wind Has A Language, I Would I Could Learn! Sometimes 'tis Soothing, And Sometimes 'tis Stern, Sometimes It Comes Like A Low Sweet Song, And All Things Grow Calm, As The Sound Floats Along, And The Forest Is Lull'd By The Dreamy Strain, And Slumber Sinks Down On The Wandering Main, And Its Crystal Arms Are Folded In Rest, And The Tall Ship Sleeps On Its Heaving Breast.

Confidence Is Its Own Security.

We Are Ourselves The Stumbling-blocks In The Way Of Our Happiness. Place A Common Individual - By Common, I Mean With The Common Share Of Stupidity, Custom, And Discontent - Place Him In The Garden Of Eden, And He Would Not Find It Out Unless He Were Told, And When Told, He Would Not Believe It.

Every Other Species Of Talent Carries With It Its Eternity; We Enjoy The Work Of The Poet, The Painter, The Sculptor, Only As Thousands Will Do After Us; But The Actor - His Memory Is With His Generation, And That Passes Away.

We Need To Suffer, That We May Learn To Pity.