If The Vast And The Spiritual Are

Life Too Near Paralyses Art.

Consistency Is The Bugbear That Frightens Little Minds.

It Is Long Ere We Discover How Rich We Are. Our History, We Are Sure, Is Quite Tame: We Have Nothing To Write, Nothing To Infer. But Our Wiser Years Still Run Back To The Despised Recollections Of Childhood, And Always We Are Fishing Up Some Wonderful Article Out Of That Pond; Until, By And By, We Begin To Suspect That The Biography Of The One Foolish Person We Know Is, In Reality, Nothing Less Than The Miniature Paraphrase Of The Hundred Volumes Of The Universal History.

On Bravely Through The Sunshine And The Showers! Time Hath His Work To Do, And We Have Ours.

Make The Most Of Yourself, For That Is All There Is Of You.