Thou Shalt Abstain, Renounce, Refrain.

Over The Trackless Past, Somewhere, Lie The Lost Days Of Our Tropic Youth, Only Regained By Faith And Prayer, Only Recalled By Prayer And Plaint, Each Lost Day Has Its Patron Saint!

We Must Not Hope To Be Mowers, And To Gather The Ripe Gold Ears, Unless We Have First Been Sowers And Water The Furrows With Tears. It Is Not Just As We Take It, This Mystical World Of Ours, Life's Field Will Yield As We Make It A Harvest Of Thorns Or Of Flowers.

It Is A Misfortune To Pass At Once From Observation To Conclusion, And To Regard Both As Of Equal Value; But It Befalls Many A Student.

True Happiness Springs From Moderation.

To Be Active Is The Primary Vocation Of Man.