It Is The End Of Art To

No Man Is Good For Anything Who Has Not Some Particle Of Obstinacy To Use Upon Occasion.

Remember God's Bounty In The Year. String The Pearls Of His Favor. Hide The Dark Parts, Except So Far As They Are Breaking Out In Light! Give This One Day To Thanks, To Joy, To Gratitude!

What Profusion Is There In His Work! When Trees Blossom There Is Not A Single Breastpin, But A Whole Bosom Full Of Gems; And Of Leaves They Have So Many Suits That They Can Throw Them Away To The Winds All Summer Long. What Unnumbered Cathedrals Has He Reared In The Forest Shades, Vast And Grand, Full Of Curious Carvings, And Haunted Evermore By Tremulous Music; And In The Heavens Above, How Do Stars Seem To Have Flown Out Of His Hand Faster Than Sparks Out Of A Mighty Forge!

See To It That Each Hour's Feelings, And Thoughts, And Actions Are Pure And True; Then Will Your Life Be Such.

Mirthfulness Is In The Mind, And You Cannot Get It Out. It Is The Blessed Spirit That God Has Set In The Mind To Dust It, To Enliven Its Dark Places, And To Drive Asceticism, Like A Foul Fiend, Out At The Back Door. It Is Just As Good, In Its Place, As Conscience Or Veneration. Praying Can No More Be Made A Substitute For Smiling Than Smiling Can For Praying.