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of thought or feeling, are those of which the fructification is slow.

The greatest obstacle to being heroic, is the doubt whether one may not be going to prove one's self a fool. The truest heroism is to resist the doubt. The profoundest wisdom, to know when we ought to be resisted and when to be obeyed.

The mind on the eve of adventurous enterprises, is invariably haunted with distrustful phantom, to warn us back within the boundaries of ordinary life.

Strong feeling makes every one an artist for the time, and asserts a right to be somehow stated and set forth.

One only needs to grow older in order to grow more tolerant.

Still waters may run deep, but deep waters are not always still.

Where there is deep feeling, and the outward signs are suppressed, there may be more suffering, not because the strength of the original emotion is greater, but because the unnatural and unhealthy process of suppression is going on.

Holmes.

The world must be just. It will certainly accept your own measure of your doing and being.

Emerson.

It is more necessary that parents should enfold their children in love, and make them live in the consciousness of the fact, than to leave them large fortunes.

Holmes.

She who seeks to right a wrong is excused for touching coffers, though her hands be white. She who does this was born to do it, and claims her license in her work. Mrs. Browning.

Take the place and attitude to which you see your unquestionable right, and all men acquiesce.

"Do not trouble yourself too much about the light of your statue," said Michael Angelo to the young sculptor; "the light of the public square will test its value."

God is the Master of the scenes in the drama of life. We must not choose what part we shall act, it concerns us that we act our part well.

It is folly to attempt to thrive before we are luminous. Jeremy Taylor.

The possessors of great gifts rarely know the blessing of a happy childhood. Their unusual powers stir within them. Instead of the natural life of perceptions (the objective), they begin, early, the life of reflection (the subjective).

We first must live; afterward may write.

Goethe.

Goethe.

If we live truly we shall see truly.

Emerson.

The heart has reasons that reason does not know.

Pascal.

Faith draws the poison from every grief, takes the sting from every loss, quenches the fire of every pain; and only faith can do it.

MacDonald.

The day will never come in which we shall not find something to vex us. The day will never come in which the soul will be perfectly happy. God does not intend that such a day should come, because the world was never meant for our rest. The immortal soul will ever reach and long for something as immortal as itself.

Boyd.

Fame is ever likened to our shade,

He soonest missest her that most has made
To overtake her. Whoso takes his wing,
Regardless of her, she'll be following.
Then true propriety she thus discovers,
Loves her contemners, and contemns her lovers;
The applause of common people never yet
Pursued this swain; he knew the counterfeit
Of settled praise and blame.

W. Brown.

The true artist always gives forth what is noble in itself, and intended to make others noble. If it meets with no response in the public mind, his own faith in human nature is by so much lowered.

The great question in this life is not what we shall get, but what we may become.

Bushnell.

That which each can do best none but his Maker can teach him. Emerson.

Woman is most familiar with the enclosed facts of life, and has the most tenderness and reverence for what is human.

Nature is the great mother confessor. She hears, sees and registers everything, and keeps the record in stillness and shadow until the day when it shall be called for. Not a wave of sound is lost, not a word spoken or sigh breathed, but writes itself down somewhere. Not an in-. cident, not a thing is photographed with the concurrence of our wills. The laws of light and sound, the simple ordinances that gird us round, are the implements with which the recording angel makes his indelible entries, and when the books shall be opened the only eye that can or should read them, will read them. In the meantime, the long meantime, the patient mother beholds and listens and keeps her counsels, only hinting, perhaps, now and then, in the monotone of the sea, or the complaint of the wind, or a heaviness in the air and sunshine, that she has secrets which oppress her.

The earth, in her physical aspect, seems like a veritable thing of life, possessing flesh, blood and bones-her flesh, the soil; her blood, the rivers; her bones, the mountains; her nostrils, the volcanoes; her breath, the

wind; her eyelids, the skies; her tears, the dew-drops; her song, the melody of birds; her smile, the flowers; and her raiment, the sunbeams. It is the delight of her household, and, at the same time, dance to the music of the spheres.

Earth has her wonders, yet they are few compared with the infinite wonders of the heavens. Vast as our solar system is, it may still be regarded as but a chandelier suspended in the entrance hall of nature's great temple. Harvey Rice.

Why are we not always thoughtful and tender of the old? Why do people forget so, and seem to think the romance and the dream days all belong to the young, never seeming to think of the pathos of lives grown silent and tired with the long journey; never a thought of the stories written on hearts that are hidden by wrinkled, careworn faces; never thinking of the struggles, the noble deeds which are written in the old faces looking from dim eyes?

The deepest ice that ever froze
Can only o'er the surface close;
The living stream lies quick below,
And flows, and cannot cease to flow.

We can accommodate ourselves in time to any certainty. It is only when we are called upon to accommodate ourselves to possibilities, uncertain as vaporous clouds, that we weary our hearts in fruitless efforts.

Mrs. Stowe.

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