There Are Some Experiences In Life Which

You See Things And You Say, 'why?'. But I Dream Things And I Say, 'why Not?'.

But A Mother Is Like A Broomstick Or Like The Sun In The Heavens, It Does Not Matter Which As Far As One's Knowledge Of Her Is Concerned: The Broomstick Is There And The Sun Is There; And Whether The Child Is Beaten By It Or Warmed And Enlightened By It, It Accepts It As A Fact In Nature, And Does Not Conceive It As Having Had Youth, Passions, And Weaknesses, Or As Still Growing, Yearning, Suffering, And Learning.

The Fact Is That The Intrinsic Worth Of The Book, Play Or Whatever The Author Is Trying To Sell Is The Least, Last Factor In The The Whole Transaction.

Perhaps You Know Some Well-off Families Who Do Not Seem To Suffer From Their Riches. They Do Not Overeat Themselves; They Find Occupations To Keep Themselves In Health; They Do Not Worry About Their Position; They Put Their Money Into Safe Investments And Are Content With A Low Rate Of Interest; And They Bring Up Their Children To Live Simply And Do Useful Work. But This Means That They Do Not Live Like Rich People At All, And Might Therefore Just As Well Have Ordinary Incomes.

The Most Tragic Thing In The World Is A Man Of Genius Who Is Not A Man Of Honor.