No One Can Fail To See That

The Human Race May Be Compared To A Writer. At The Outset A Writer Has Often Only A Vague General Notion Of The Plan Of His Work, And Of The Thought He Intends To Elaborate. As He Proceeds, Penetrating His Material, Laboring To Express Himself Fitly, He Lays A Firmer Grasp On His Thought; He Finds Himself. So The Human Race Is Writing Its Story, Finding Itself, Discovering Its Own Underlying Purpose, Revising, Recasting A Tale Pathetic Often, Yet None The Less Sublime.

You Do Not Build Your Own Houses, Nor Make Your Own Garments, Nor Bake Your Own Bread, Simply Because You Know That If You Were To Attempt All These Things They Would All Be More Or Less Ill Done.

We Should Teach Our Children Nothing Which They Shall Ever Need To Unlearn; We Should Strive To Transmit To Them The Best Possessions, The Truest Thought, The Noblest Sentiments Of The Age In Which We Live.

If You Desire Information On Some Point Of Law, You Are Not Likely To Ponder Over The Ponderous Tomes Of Legal Writers In Order To Obtain The Knowledge You Seek, By Your Own Unaided Efforts.

It Is Written That The Last Enemy To Be Vanquished Is Death. We Should Begin Early In Life To Vanquish This Enemy By Obliterating Every Trace Of The Fear Of Death From Our Minds. Then Can We Turn To Life And Fill The Whole Horizon Of Our Souls With It, Turn With Added Zest To All The Serious Tasks Which It Imposes And To The Pure Delights Which Here And There It Affords.