True Freedom Is To Share All The

The Green Grass Floweth Like A Stream Into The Oceans's Blue.

He's True To God Who's True To Man.

Books Are The Bees Which Carry The Quickening Pollen From One To Another Mind.

No Man Can Produce Great Things Who Is Not Thoroughly Sincere In Dealing With Himself, Who Would Not Exchange The Finest Show For The Poorest Reality, Who Does Not So Love His Work That He Is Not Only Glad To Give Himself For It, But Finds Rather A Gain Than A Sacrifice In The Surrender.

The Nunneries Of Silent Nooks, The Murmured Longing Of The Wood.