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WISDOM.ZIP ÿÿ Ç6qPFPå¼ åIt is a descending s0tream of pure activi2ty which is the 3dynamic force of the1 universe. 2Action is the produc0t of the Qualities i2nherent in Nature. 3Action is eloquence.0The end of man is ac0tion, and not though2t, 3though it be of the 1noblest. 2Our deeds determine 0us, as much as we de2termine our deeds. 3Action is coarsened 0thought; 2thought becomes conc1rete, obscure, and u2nconscious. 3Everything is energy0 in motion. 2As one acts and cond0ucts himself, so doe2s he become. 3The doer of good bec1omes good. 2The doer of evil bec1omes evil. 2One becomes virtuous1 by virtuous action,2 bad by bad action. 3One who sees inactio0n in action, and act2ion in inaction, 3is intelligent among1 men. 2The secret of the ma0gic of life consists2 in using action in 3order to attain non-1action. One must no2t wish to leap over 3everything and penet1rate directly. 2Desire and force bet0ween them are respon2sible for all our 3actions; desire caus1es our voluntary act2s, force our 3involuntary. 1The deed is everythi0ng, 2the glory is naught.1The more we do, the 0more we can do; 2the more busy we are1, the more leisure w2e have. 3Deliberate with caut0ion, but act with de2cision; 3and yield with graci1ousness, or oppose w2ith firmness. 3Our acts make or mar0 us, 2we are the children 1of our own deeds. 2Action may not alway0s bring happiness; 2but there is no happ1iness without action2. 3Think like a man of 0action, act like a m2an of thought. 3Action without study0 is fatal. 2Study without action1 is futile. 2This universe is a t0rinity and this is m2ade of name, form, 3and action. The sou1rce of all actions i2s the body, for it 3is by the body that 1all actions are done2. The body is 3behind all actions, 1even as the Eternal 2is behind the body. 3Knowledge, the objec0t of knowledge and t2he knower 3 are the three fact1ors which motivate a2ction; 3the senses, the work1 and the doer 2 comprise the three1fold basis of action2. 3All human actions ha0ve one or more of th2ese seven causes: 3chance, nature, comp1ulsions, habit, reas2on, passion, desire.3Our actions are like0 the terminations of2 verses, 3which we rhyme as we1 please. 2The actions of men a0re the best interpre2ters of their 3thoughts. 1Words may show a man0's wit but actions h2is meaning. 3Action hangs, as it 0were, "dissolved" in2 speech, in thoughts3whereof speech is th1e shadow; and precip2itates itself 3therefrom. The kind1 of speech in a man 2betokens the kind of3action you will get 1from him. 2Every man feels inst0inctively that all t2he beautiful 3sentiments in the wo1rld weigh less than 2a single 3lovely action. 1The great end of lif0e is not knowledge b2ut action. 3It is the mark of a 0good action that it 2appears inevitable 3in retrospect. 1According to real, e0xact knowledge, one 2force, or two 3forces, can never pr1oduce a phenomenon. 2 The presence 3of a third force is 1necessary, for it is2 only with the 3help of a third forc1e that the first two2 can produce 3what may be called a1 phenomenon, no matt2er in what sphere. 3Actions are the seed0 of Fate 2Deeds grow into Dest1iny. 2To talk goodness is 0not good... 2Only to do it is. 1To be doing good dee0ds is man's most glo2rious task. 3A tree is known by i0ts fruit; a man by h2is deeds. 3A good deed is never1 lost; he who sows c2ourtesy reaps 3friendship, and he w1ho plants kindness g2athers love. 3Good actions ennoble0 us, we are the sons2 of our own deeds. 3How far that little 0candle throws his be2ams! 3So shines a good dee1d in a naughty world2. 3A good action is nev0er lost; 2it is a treasure lai1d up and guarded for2 the doer's need. 3Action is the highes0t perfection and dra2wing forth of the 3utmost power, vigor,1 and activity of man2's nature. 3Well done is better 0than well said. 2Act well at the mome0nt, 2and you have perform1ed a good action for2 all eternity. 3Thought and theory m0ust precede all salu2tary action; 3yet action is nobler1 in itself than eith2er thought or 3theory. 1It is well to think 0well; it is divine t2o act well. 3Action is greater th0an writing. A good 2man is a nobler 3object of contemplat1ion than a great aut2hor. There are but 3two things worth liv1ing for: to do what2 is worthy of being 3written; and to writ1e what is worthy of 2being read; and the 3greater of these is 1the doing. 2But the good deed, t0hrough the ages 2 Living in historic1 pages, 2Brighter grows and g1leams immortal, 2 Uncomsumed by moth1 or rust. 2Active natures are r0arely melancholy. 2Activity and sadness1 are incompatible. 2Heaven never helps t0he men who will not 2act. 3Just as a flower whi0ch seems beautiful a2nd has colour but 3no perfume, so are t1he fruitless words o2f the man who 3speaks them but does1 them not. 2Men do not value a g0ood deed unless it b2rings a reward. 3We should often be a0shamed of our very b2est actions, 3if the world only sa1w the motives which 2caused them. 3Thinking is easy, ac0ting is difficult, 2and to put one's tho1ughts into action 2is the most difficul1t thing in the world2. 3He who considers too0 much will perform l2ittle. 3When a man has not a0 good reason for doi2ng a thing, 3he has one good reas1on for letting it al2one. 3Mark this well, ye p0roud men of action! 2ye are, after all, n1othing but unconscio2us instruments 3of the men of though1t. 2We have only to chan0ge the point of view2and the greatest act1ion looks mean. 2Words without action0s are the assassins 2of idealism. 3There is nothing so 0useless as doing eff2iciently that which 3should not be done a1t all. 2One should act in co0nsonance with the wa2y of heaven and 3earth, which is endu1ring and eternal. T2he superior man 3perseveres long in h1is course, adapts to2 the times, but 3remains firm in his 1direction and correc2t in his goals. 3The superior man act0s before he speaks, 2and afterwards speak1s according to his a2ction. 3Do not do what is al0ready done. 2We should not be so 0taken up in the sear2ch for truth, 3as to neglect the ne1edful duties of acti2ve life; 3for it is only actio1n that gives a true 2value 3and commendation to 1virtue. 2What one has, one ou0ght to use: and wha2tever he does 3he should do with al1l his might. 2To do an evil act is0 base. 2To do a good one wit1hout incurring dange2r, is common enough.3But it is part of a 1good man to do great2 and noble deeds 3though he risks ever1ything in doing them2. 3Be great in act, as 0you have been in tho2ught. 3Attempt the end, and0 never stand to doub2t; 3Nothing's so hard bu1t search will find i2t out. 3The shortest answer 0is doing. 2Do not wait for extr0aordinary circumstan2ces to do good 3action; try to use o1rdinary situations. 2Let us, if we must h0ave great actions, m2ake our own so. All3action is of infinit1e elasticity, and th2e least admits of 3being inflated with 1celestial air, until2 it eclipses the sun3and moon. 1Speak out in acts; t0he time for words ha2s passed, 3and only deeds will 1suffice. 2This is a world of a0ction, 2and not for moping a1nd droning in. 2Trust no future, how0ever pleasant! 2 Let the dead past b1ury its dead! 2Act, - act in the li1ving Present! 2 Heart within and Go1d overhead. 2For purposes of acti0on nothing is more u2seful than 3narrowness of though1t combined with ener2gy of will. 3Our only true course0 is to let the motiv2e for action be in 3the action itself, n1ever in its reward; 2not to be incited 3by the hope of the r1esult, nor yet indul2ge a propensity for 3inertness. 1It is not good enoug0h for things to be p2lanned - they still 3have to be done; for1 the intention to be2come a reality, 3energy has to be lau1nched into operation2. 3Better do a good dee0d near at home 2than go far away to 1burn incense. 2 When a man dies, w0hat does not leave h2im? 3 The voice of a dea1d man goes into fire2, his breath into 3wind, his eyes into 1the sun, his mind in2to the moon, his 3hearing into the qua1rters of heaven, his2 body into the 3earth, his spirit in1to space, the hairs 2of his head into 3plants, and his bloo1d and semen are plac2ed in water, what 3then becomes of this1 person? 2 What remains is ac1tion. It's quality 2becomes fate. 3Verily, one becomes 1good by good action,2 bad by bad action. 3That deed is not wel0l done of which a ma2n must repent, 3and the reward of wh1ich he receives cryi2ng and with a 3tearful face. No, t1hat deed is well don2e of which a man 3does not repent, and1 the reward of which2 he receives gladly 3and cheerfully. 1A wise man guides hi0s own course of acti2on; 3The fool follows ano1ther's direction, 2When an old dog bark1s, the others run, 2And this for no reas1on at all. 2For as one star anot0her far exceeds, 2So souls in heaven a1re placed by their d2eeds. 3And future deeds cro0wded round us 2as the countless sta1rs in the night. 2Each morning sees so0me task begun, 2 Each evening sees 1it close; 2Something attempted,1 something done, 2 Has earned a night1's repose. 2Action is the last r0esource of those who2 know not how 3to dream. 1Hatred is inveterate0 anger. 2Anger is momentary m0adness. 2Hatreds are the cind0ers of affection. 2To be angry is to re0venge the faults of 2others on ourselves.3Hatred is self-punis0hment. 2Anger is a wind whic0h blows out the lamp2 of the mind. 3He who is slow to an0ger has great unders2tanding, 3 but he who has a h1asty temper exalts f2olly. 3Anger begins with fo0lly, and ends with r2epentance. 3For hatred does not 0cease by hatred at a2ny time: 3hatred ceases by lov1e - this is an old r2ule. 3An angry man opens h0is mouth and shuts h2is eyes. 3He that will be angr0y for anything 2will be angry for no1thing. 2If anger proceeds fr0om a great cause, it2 turns to fury; 3if from a small caus1e, it is peevishness2; 3and so is always eit1her terrible or ridi2culous. 3Whatever is begun in0 anger, ends in sham2e. 3I was angry with my 0friend; 2I told my wrath, my 1wrath did end. 2I was angry with my 1foe; 2I told it not, my wr1ath did grow. 2Most men know what t0hey hate, 2few know what they l1ove. 2The intoxication of 0anger, like that of 2the grape, 3shows us to others, 1but hides us from ou2rselves. 3Anyone can become an0gry - that is easy, 2but to be angry with1 the right person, t2o the right degree, 3at the right time, f1or the right purpose2, 3and in the right way1 - that is not easy.2Whom men fear they h0ate, 2and whom they hate, 1they wish dead. 2Like fragile ice ang0er passes away in ti2me. 3Anger, though concea0led, is betrayed by 2the countenance. 3Anger may repast wit0h thee for an hour, 2but not repose for a1 night; 2the continuance of a1nger is hatred, 2the continuance of h1atred turns malice. 2That anger is not wa1rrantable which hath2 seen two suns. 3We are almost always0 guilty of the hate 2we encounter. 3Hatred is active, an0d envy passive disli2ke; 3there is but one ste1p from envy to hate.2If you hate a person0, you hate something2 in him that is part3of yourself. What i1sn't part of ourselv2es doesn't disturb 3us. 1He who holds back ri0sing anger like a ro2lling chariot, him 3I call a real driver1; other people are b2ut holding the reins3I never work better 0than when I am inspi2red by anger; 3for when I am angry,1 I can write, pray, 2and preach well, 3for then my whole te1mperament is quicken2ed, my understanding3sharpened, and all m1undane vexations and2 temptations depart.3Now hatred is by far0 the longest pleasur2e; 3Men love in haste, b1ut they detest at le2isure. 3A good indignation b0rings out all one's 2powers. 3Anger is a great for0ce. If you control 2it, it can be 3transmuted into a po1wer which can move t2he whole world. 3Passionate hatred ca0n give meaning and p2urpose to an empty 3life. 1As the whirlwind in 0its fury teareth up 2trees, 3and deformeth the fa1ce of nature, or as 2an earthquake 3in its convulsions o1verturneth whole cit2ies; 3so the rage of an an1gry man throweth mis2chief around him. 3There is such malice0 in men as to rejoic2e in misfortunes 3and from another's w1oes to draw delight.2An angry man is agai0n angry with himself2when he returns to r1eason. 2There is no medicine0 to cure hatred. 2Malice drinks one ha0lf of its own poison2. 3Anger, if not restra0ined, is frequently 2more hurtful to 3us than the injury t1hat provokes it. 2The hatred of relati0ves is the most viol2ent. 3He whose anger cause0s no fear, 2Who can confer no be1nefit when pleased, 2Who can neither dest1roy nor subjugate, 2What good is such a 1man's anger? 2How much more grievo0us are the consequen2ces of anger 3than the causes of i1t. 2When our hatred is v0iolent, it sinks us 2even beneath those 3we hate. 1Hatred is something 0peculiar. You will 2always find it 3strongest and most v1iolent where there i2s the lowest 3degree of culture. 1Hatred is the vice o0f narrow souls; they2 feed it with all 3their littleness, an1d make it the pretex2t of base tyrannies.3Hatred is the coward0's revenge for being2 intimidated. 3The tendency of aggr0ession is an innate,2 independent, 3instinctual disposit1ion in man...it cons2titutes the most 3powerful obstacle to1 culture. 2We must interpret a 0bad temper as a sign2 of inferiority. 3Indulge not thyself 0in the passion of An2ger; it is whetting 3a sword to wound thi1ne own breast, or mu2rder thy friend. 3Anger will never dis0appear so long as th2oughts of resentment3are cherished in the1 mind. Anger will d2isappear just as 3soon as thoughts of 1resentment are forgo2tten. 3When anger rises, th0ink of the consequen2ces. 3Take care that no on0e hates you justly. 2The greatest remedy 0for anger is delay. 2Oppose not rage whil0e rage is in its for2ce, 3but give it way a wh1ile and let it waste2. 3Beware of him that i0s slow to anger; ang2er, when it is long 3in coming, is the st1ronger when it comes2, and the longer 3kept. Abused patien1ce turns to fury. 2Act nothing in a fur0ious passion. 2It's putting to sea 1in a storm. 2Think when you are e0nraged at any one, w2hat would probably 3become your sentimen1ts should he die dur2ing the dispute. 3When angry, count te0n before you speak, 2if very angry, a hun1dred. 2To rule one's anger 0is well; to prevent 2it is better. 3If you have written 0a clever and conclus2ive, 3but scathing letter,1 keep it back till t2he next day, 3and it will very oft1en never go at all. 2Anger, which, far sw0eeter than trickling2 drops of honey, 3rises in the bosom o1f a man like smoke. 2When a man dwells on0 the objects of sens2e, he creates an 3attraction for them;1 attraction develops2 into desire, and 3desire breeds anger.1Although you may spe0nd your life killing2, 3You will not exhaust1 all your foes. 2But if you quell you1r own anger, 2Your real enemy will1 be slain. 2In rage deaf as the 0sea; hasty as fire. 2The brain may devise0 laws for the blood;2but a hot temper lea1ps o'er a cold decre2e: 3such a hare is madne1ss the youth, to ski2p 3over the meshes of g1ood counsel, the cri2pple. 3Heaven has no rage l0ike love to hatred t2urned, 3Nor Hell a fury like1 a woman scorned. 2Are you angry that o0thers disappoint you2? 3 Remember you canno1t depend on yourself2. 3Hate is ravening vul0ture beaks 2descending on a plac1e of skulls. 2When one God dwells 0in all living beings2, then why do you 3hate others? Why do1 you frown at others2? Why do you become3indignant towards ot1hers? Why do you us2e harsh words? Why 3do you try to rule a1nd domineer over oth2ers? Why do you 3exploit folly? Is t1his not sheer ignora2nce? Get wisdom and3rest in peace. 1Beauty - the adjustm0ent of all parts pro2portionately so that3one cannot add or su1btract or change wit2hout impairing the 3harmony of the whole1. 2Beauty is the purgat0ion of superfluities2. 3Beauty is a harmonio0us relation between 2something in our 3nature and the quali1ty of the object whi2ch delights us. 3The ideal of beauty 0is simplicity and tr2anquility. 3Grace is the beauty 0of form under the in2fluence of freedom. 3Beauty is the promis0e of happiness. 2Beauty is truth, tru0th beauty. 2Beauty itself is but0 the sensible image 2of the Infinite. 3Beauty is the mark G0od sets on virtue. 2Beauty is the index 0of a larger fact tha2n wisdom. 3The essence of the b0eautiful is unity in2 variety. 3When the people of t0he world all know be2auty as beauty, 3 There arises the r1ecognition of ugline2ss. 3When they all know t1he good as good, 2 There arises the r1ecognition of evil. 2Therefore: Being an1d non-being produce 2each other. 3The criterion of tru0e beauty is that it 2increases on 3examination; if fals1e, that it lessens. 2To give pain is the 0tyranny; 2to make happy, the t1rue empire of beauty2. 3Grace has been defin0ed as the outward ex2pression of the 3inward harmony of th1e soul. 2The beautiful seems 0right by force of be2auty, 3and the feeble wrong1 because of weakness2. 3Beauty is the power 0by which a woman cha2rms a lover and 3terrifies a husband.1The beauty of the wo0rld has two edges, o2ne of laughter, 3one of anguish, cutt1ing the heart asunde2r. 3Beauty is the wisdom0 of women. 2Wisdom is the beauty1 of men. 2Heat cannot be separ0ated from fire, 2or beauty from The E1ternal. 2All kinds of beauty 0do not inspire love;2there is a kind whic1h only pleases the s2ight, 3but does not captiva1te the affections. 2Beauty is the bait w0hich with delight 2allures man to enlar1ge his kind. 2The best part of bea0uty is that which no2 picture 3can express 1There is no excellen0t beauty that hath n2ot some 3strangeness in the p1roportion. 2Beauty is nature's b0rag, and must be sho2wn in courts, 3at feasts, and high 1solemnities, where m2ost may wonder 3at the workmanship. 1That which is striki0ng and beautiful is 2not always good; 3but that which is go1od is always beautif2ul. 3Variety of uniformit0ies makes complete b2eauty. 3There is nothing tha0t makes its way more2 directly to the 3soul than beauty. 1Beauty is an outward0 gift, which is seld2om despised, 3except by those to w1hom it has been refu2sed. 3Beauty is a manifest0ation of secret natu2ral laws, 3which otherwise woul1d have been hidden f2rom us forever. 3Grace is in garments0, in movements, in m2anners; beauty in 3the nude, and in for1ms. This is true of2 bodies; but when 3we speak of feelings1, beauty is in their2 spirituality, and 3grace in their moder1ation. 2Truth exists for the0 wise, beauty for th2e feeling heart. 3The beautiful rests 0on the foundations o2f the necessary. 3We ascribe beauty to0 that which is simpl2e; 3which has not superf1luous parts; 2which exactly answer1s its ends. 2In life, as in art, 0the beautiful moves 2in curves. 3The beauty that addr0esses itself to the 2eyes 3is only the spell of1 the moment; 2the eye of the body 1is not always that o2f the soul. 3Beauty is not caused0, - it is; 2Chase it and it ceas1es, 2Chase it not and it 1abides... 2When virtue and mode0sty enlighten her ch2arms, the lustre of 3a beautiful woman is1 brighter than the s2tars of heaven, 3and the influence of1 her power it is in 2vain to resist. 3What is beautiful is0 good, 2and who is good will1 soon be beautiful. 2Personal beauty is a0 greater recommendat2ion 3than any letter of r1eference. 2Even virtue is faire0r when it appears in2 a beautiful person.3For, when with beaut0y we can virtue join2, 3We paint the semblan1ce of a form divine.2Beauty attracts us m0en; but if, like an 2armed magnet it 3is pointed, beside, 1with gold and silver2, it attracts 3with tenfold power. 1Who doth not feel, u0ntil his failing sig2ht 3Faints into dimness 1with its own delight2, 3His changing cheek, 1his sinking heart co2nfess, 3The might - the maje1sty of Loveliness? 2A thing of beauty is0 a joy forever, 2Its loveliness incre1ases; it will never 2Pass into nothingnes1s. 2A beautiful form is 0better than a beauti2ful face; 3it gives a higher pl1easure than statues 2or pictures; 3it is the finest of 1the fine arts. 2The soul, by an inst0inct stronger than r2eason, 3ever associates beau1ty with truth. 2Beauty is power; a s0mile is its sword. 2Beauty is a form of 0genius - is higher, 2indeed, than genius,3as it needs no expla1nation. It is of th2e great facts in the3world like sunlight,1 or springtime, or t2he reflection in 3dark water of that s1ilver shell we call 2the moon. 3Beauty is a short-li0ved tyranny. 2Nothing is beautiful0 from every point of2 view. 3Rare is the union of0 beauty and purity. 2Beauty - a deceitful0 bait with a deadly 2hook. 3Beauty is but a vain0 and doubtful good; 2 A shining gloss th1at fadeth suddenly; 2A flower that dies w1hen first it 'gins t2o bud; 3 A brittle glass th1at's broken presentl2y; 3A doubtful good, a g1loss, a glass, a flo2wer, 3 Lost, faded, brok1en, dead within an h2our. 3Beauty is but a flow0er 2Which wrinkles will 1devour; 2Brightness falls fro1m the air; 2Queens have died you1ng and fair; 2Dust hath closed Hel1en's eye. 2Gaze not on beauty t0oo much, lest it bla2st thee; 3nor too long, lest i1t blind thee; 2nor too near, lest i1t burn thee. 2If thou like it, it 1deceives thee; 2if thou love it, it 1disturbs thee; 2if thou hunt after i1t, it destroys thee.2If virtue accompany 1it, it is the heart'2s paradise; 3if vice associate it1, it is the soul's p2urgatory. 3It is the wise man's1 bonfire, and the fo2ol's furnace. 3In beauty, faults co0nspicuous grow; 2The smallest speck i1s seen in snow. 2Beauties in vain the0ir pretty eyes may r2oll; 3charms strike the si1ght, but merit wins 2the soul. 3Beauty and folly are0 old companions. 2Beauty and sadness a0lways go together. 2Nature thought beaut1y too rich to go for2th 3Upon the earth witho1ut a meet alloy. 2What a strange illus0ion it is to suppose2that beauty is goodn1ess. 2Beauty is all very w0ell at first sight; 2but who ever 3looks at it when it 1has been in the hous2e three days? 3Beauty, more than bi0tterness 2Makes the heart brea1k. 2Beauty is unbearable0, drives us to despa2ir, offering us for 3a minute the glimpse1 of an eternity that2 we should like to 3stretch out over the1 whole of time. 2Trust not too much t0o an enchanting face2. 3Remember if you marr0y for beauty, thou b2indest thyself all 3thy life for that wh1ich perchance, will 2neither last nor 3please thee one year1: and when thou has2t it, it will be to 3thee of no price at 1all. 2Gather ye rose-buds 0while ye may, 2Old Time is still a-1flying: 2And this same flower1 that smiles today, 2Tomorrow will be dyi1ng. 2A man should hear a 0little music, read a2 little poetry, 3and see a fine pictu1re every day of his 2life, 3in order that worldl1y cares may not obli2terate the sense 3of the beautiful whi1ch God has implanted2 in the human soul. 3There's beauty all a0round our paths, if 2but our 3watchful eyes can tr1ace it 'midst famili2ar things, 3and through their lo1wly guise. 2Though we travel the0 world over to find 2the beautiful, 3we must carry it wit1h us or we find it n2ot. 3Remember that the mo0st beautiful things 2in the world 3are the most useless1; peacocks and lilie2s, for instance. 3Walk on a rainbow tr0ail; walk on a trail2 of song, 3and all about you wi1ll be beauty. 2There is a way out o1f every dark mist, o2ver a rainbow trail.3When the candles are0 out all women are f2air. 3O, thou art fairer t0han the evening air 2clad in the 3beauty of a thousand1 stars. 2There's no use being0 young without being2 beautiful, 3and no use being bea1utiful without being2 young. 3Beauty, like ice, ou0r footing does betra2y; 3Who can tread sure o1n the smooth, slippe2ry way: 3Pleased with the sur1face, we glide swift2ly on, 3And see the dangers 1that we cannot shun.2'Tis not a lip, or e0ye, we beauty call, 2But the joint force 1and full result of a2ll. 3Her air, her manners0, all who saw admire2d; 3Courteous though coy1, and gentle though 2retired; 3The joy of youth and1 health her eyes dis2played, 3And ease of heart he1r every look conveye2d. 3Not more the rose, t0he queen of flowers,2Outblushes all the b1loom of bower, 2Than she unrivall'd 1grace discloses; 2The sweetest rose, w1here all are roses. 2She walks in beauty 0like the night 2Of cloudless climes 1and starry skies; 2And all that's best 1of dark and bright 2Meet in her aspect a1nd in her eyes: 2Thus mellowed to tha1t tender light 2Which heaven to gaud1y day denies. 2Loveliest of lovely 0things are they 2On earth, that soone1st pass away. 2The rose that lives 1its little hour 2Is prized beyond the1 sculptured flower. 2She is not fair to o0utward view 2As many maidens be; 1Her loveliness I nev1er knew 2Until she smiled on 1me: 2Oh! then I saw her 1eye was bright, 2A well of love, a sp1ring of light. 2Sunsets are so beaut0iful that they almos2t seem as if we 3were looking through1 the gates of Heaven2. 3Everything changes, 0nothing remains with2out change. 3All things change, n0othing perishes. 2In all things there 0is a law of cycles. 2We must all obey the0 great law of change2. 3It is the most power1ful law of nature. 2We are negative in o0ur relationships wit2h that which is of 3a higher potential t1han we are; and we a2re positive in our 3relationships with t1hat which has a lowe2r potential. This 3is a relationship wh1ich is in a perpetua2l state of flux, and3which varies at ever1y separate point at 2which we make our 3innumerable contract1s with our environme2nt. 3There is nothing per0manent except change2. 3The seen is the chan0ging, 2the unseen is the un1changing. 2As the blessings of 0health and fortune h2ave a beginning, 3so they must also fi1nd an end. Everythi2ng rises but to 3fall, and increases 1but to decay. 2The misery which fol0lows pleasure 2Is the pleasure whic1h follows misery. 2The pleasure and mis1ery of mankind 2Revolve like a wheel1. 2The end of all motio0n is its beginning; 2for it terminates 3at no other end save1 its own beginning f2rom which it begins 3to be moved and to w1hich it tends ever t2o return, in order 3to cease and rest in1 it. 2Still ending, and be0ginning still. 2In this world of cha0nge, nothing which c2omes stays, 3and nothing which go1es is lost. 2Change is inevitable0...Change is constan2t. 3The appearance and d0isappearance of the 2Universe are 3pictured as an outbr1eathing and inbreath2ing of "the Great 3Breath," which is et1ernal, and which, be2ing Motion, is 3one of the three asp1ects of the Absolute2 - Abstract Space 3and Duration being t1he other two. 2The atom, being for 0all practical purpos2es the stable unit 3of the physical plan1e, is a constantly c2hanging vortex of 3reactions. 1The universe is move0d by a power which c2ycles endlessly from3day to day. Such gr1eatness endures for 2all time. As in 3heaven, so on earth.1As when rivers flowi0ng towards the ocean2 find there final 3peace, their name an1d form disappear, an2d people speak only 3of the ocean, even s1o the different form2s of the seer of all3flows towards the Sp1irit and find there 2final peace, their 3name and form disapp1ear and people speak2 only of Spirit. 3At the dawning of th0at day all objects i2n manifestation 3stream forth from th1e Unmanifest, and wh2en evening falls 3they are dissolved i1nto It again. The s2ame multitude of 3beings, which have l1ived on earth so oft2en, all are 3dissolved as the nig1ht of the universe a2pproaches, to issue 3forth anew when morn1ing breaks. Thus is2 it ordained. 3In human life there 0is constant change o2f fortune; 3and it is unreasonab1le to expect an exem2ption from the 3common fate. Life i1tself decays, and al2l things are 3daily changing. 1The customs and fash0ions of men change l2ike leaves on the 3bough, some of which1 go and others come.2It is not strange th0at even our loves sh2ould change 3with our fortunes. 1There is such a thin0g as a general revol2ution which changes 3the taste of men as 1it changes the fortu2nes of the world. 3The world goes up an0d the world goes dow2n, 3And the sunshine fol1lows the rain; 2And yesterday's snee1r and yesterday's fr2own 3Can never come over 1again. 2All things must chan0ge to something new,2to something strange1. 2It is the greatest m0istake to think that2 man is always one 3and the same. A man1 is never the same f2or long. He is 3continually changing1. He seldom remains2 the same even for 3half an hour. 1To change and change0 for the better are 2two different things3The way of the Creat0ive works through ch2ange and trans- 3formation, so that e1ach thing receives i2ts true nature 3and destiny and come1s into permanent acc2ord with the 3Great Harmony: this1 is what furthers an2d what perseveres. 3A rolling stone can 0gather no moss. 2Since 'tis Nature's 0law to change, 2Constancy alone is s1trange. 2To-day is not yester0day: we ourselves c2hange; how can our 3Works and Thoughts, 1if they are always t2o be the fittest, 3continue always the 1same? Change, indee2d is painful; 3yet ever needful; an1d if Memory have its2 force and worth, 3so also has Hope. 1The true past depart0s not, no truth or g2oodness realized 3by man ever dies, or1 can die; but all is2 still here, and, 3recognized or not, l1ives and works throu2gh endless change. 3To live is to change0, 2and to be perfect is1 to have changed oft2en. 3When to the Permanen0t is sacrificed the 2Mutable, the prize 3is thine: the drop 1returneth whence it 2came. The Open 3Path leads to the ch1angeless change - No2n-Being, the 3glorious state of Ab1soluteness, the Blis2s past human 3thought. 1The search for stati0c security - in the 2law and elsewhere - 3is misguided. The f1act is security can 2only be achieved 3through constant cha1nge, adapting old id2eas that have 3outlived their usefu1lness to current fac2ts. 3Keep what you have; 0the known evil is be2st. 3He despises what he 0sought; and he seeks2 that which he 3lately threw away. 1Believe, if thou wil0t, that mountains ch2ange their place, 3but believe not that1 man changes his nat2ure. 3He that will not app0ly new remedies must2 expect new evils. 3Then rose the seed o0f Chaos, and of Nigh2t, 3To blot out order an1d extinguish light. 2What I possess I wou0ld gladly retain. C2hange amuses the 3mind, yet scarcely p1rofits. 2They are the weakest0-minded and the hard2est-hearted men 3that most love chang1e. 2Humanity is moving i0n a circle. In one 2century it destroys 3everything it create1s in another, and th2e progress in 3mechanical things of1 the past hundred ye2ars has proceeded 3at the cost of losin1g many other things 2which perhaps were 3much more important 1for it. 2Change is certain. 0Peace is followed by2 disturbances; 3departure of evil me1n by their return. 2Such recurrences 3should not constitut1e occasions for sadn2ess but realities 3for awareness, so th1at one may be happy 2in the interim. 3Man must be prepared0 for every event of 2life, 3for there is nothing1 that is durable. 2No sensible man ever0 imputes inconsisten2cy to another 3for changing his min1d. 2Observe constantly t0hat all things take 2place by change, 3and accustom thyself1 to consider that th2e nature of the 3Universe loves nothi1ng so much as to cha2nge the things which3are, and to make new1 things like them. 2Perfection is immuta0ble. But for things2 imperfect, 3change is the way to1 perfect them. 2Weep not that the wo0rld changes - did it2 keep a stable, 3changeless state, it1 were cause indeed t2o weep. 3Slumber not in the t0ents of your fathers2. 3The world is advanci1ng. 2To act and act wisel0y when the time for 2action comes, to 3wait and wait patien1tly when it is time 2for repose, put man 3in accord with the r1ising and falling ti2des (of affairs), 3so that with nature 1and law at his back,2 and truth and 3beneficence as his b1eacon light, he may 2accomplish wonders. 3Ignorance of this la1w results in periods2 of unreasoning 3enthusiasm on the on1e hand, and depressi2on on the other. 3Man thus becomes the1 victim of the tides2 when he should be 3their Master. 1Force never moves in0 a straight line, bu2t always in a curve 3vast as the universe1, and therefore even2tually returns 3whence it issued for1th, but upon a highe2r arc, for the 3universe has progres1sed since it started2. 3So many great nobles0, things, administra2tions, 3So many high chiefta1ins, so many brave n2ations, 3So many proud prince1s, and power so sple2ndid, 3In a moment, a twink1ling, all utterly en2ded. 3The ever-whirling wh0eele 2Of Change, to which 1all mortal things do2th sway. 3See dying vegetables0 life sustain, 2See life dissolving 1vegetate again; 2All forms that peris1h other forms supply2; 3By turns we catch th1e vital breath and d2ie. 3Ships, wealth, gener0al confidence,- 2All were his; 1He counted them at b1reak of day, 2And when the sun set1! where were they. 2Life may change, but0 it may fly not; 2Hope may vanish, but1 can die not; 2Truth be veiled, but1 still it burneth; 2Love repulsed, - but1 it returneth. 2Nature gives to ever0y time and season so2me beauties of its 3own; and from mornin1g to night, as from 2the cradle to the 3grave, it is but a s1uccession of changes2 so gentle and easy 3that we can scarcely1 mark their progress2. 3But the nearer the d0awn the darker the n2ight, 3And by going wrong a1ll things come right2; 3Things have been men1ded that were worse,2And the worse, the n1earer they are to me2nd. 3That rivers flow int0o the sea 2Is loss and waste, t1he foolish say, 2Nor know that back t1hey find their way 2Unseen, to where the1y want to be. 2Time fleeth on, Yout0h soon is gone, 2Naught earthly may a1bide; Life seemeth f2ast, 3But may not last - I1t runs as runs the t2ide. 3The old believe ever0ything; 2the middle-aged susp1ect everything; 2the young know every1thing. 2Character is destiny0. 2Dignity does not con0sist in possessing h2onors, 3but in deserving the1m. 2Character is simply 0habit long continued2. 3Reputation is what m0en and women think o2f us; 3character is what Go1d and angels know of2 us. 3Character, in great 0and little things, m2eans carrying 3through what you fee1l able to do. 2Character is a perfe0ctly educated will. 2Character is that wh0ich can do without s2uccess. 3Character - a reserv0ed force which acts 2directly by 3presence, and withou1t means. 2Character is not cut0 in marble; it is no2t something solid 3and unalterable. It1 is something living2 and changing... 3Honour is the inner 0garment of the Soul;2 the first thing put3on by it with the fl1esh, and the last it2 layeth down at its 3separation from it. 1A man should endeavo0r to be as pliant as2 a reed, 3yet as hard as cedar1-wood. 2To enjoy the things 0we ought, and to hat2e the things we 3ought, has the great1est bearing on excel2lence of character. 3An excellent man, li0ke precious metal, 2Is in every way inva1riable; 2A villain, like the 1beams of a balance, 2Is always varying, u1pwards and downwards2. 3He that has light wi0thin his own clear b2reast 3May sit in the centr1e, and enjoy bright 2day: 3But he that hides a 1dark soul and foul t2houghts 3Benighted walks unde1r the mid-day sun; 2Himself his own dung1eon. 2Talent is nurtured i0n solitude; characte2r is formed in the 3stormy billows of th1e world. 2Strong characters ar0e brought out by cha2nge of situation, 3and gentle ones by p1ermanence. 2A mans' character is0 the reality of hims2elf; 3his reputation, the 1opinion others have 2formed about him; 3character resides in1 him, reputation in 2other people; 3that is the substanc1e, this is the shado2w. 3All men are alike in0 their lower natures2; 3it is in their highe1r characters that th2ey differ. 3It is better to dese0rve honors and not h2ave them 3than to have them an1d not deserve them. 2Man consists of two 0parts: essence and 2personality. 3Essence in man is wh1at is his own. Pers2onality in man 3is what is "not his 1own." "Not his own"2 means what has 3come from outside, w1hat he has learned, 2or reflects, all 3traces of exterior i1mpressions left in t2he memory and in the3sensations, all word1s and movements that2 have been learned, 3all feelings created1 by imitation. 2Good character is li0ke a rubber ball - 2 Thrown down hard -1 it bounces right ba2ck. 3Good reputation is l1ike a crystal ball -2 Thrown for gain - 1shattered and cracke2d. 3Practice no vice bec0ause it's trivial...2Neglect no virtue be1cause it's so. 2As the shadow waitet0h on the substance, 2even so true honour 1attendeth upon goodn2ess. 3Many individuals hav0e, like uncut diamon2ds, 3shining qualities be1neath a rough exteri2or. 3Not to be cheered by0 praise, 2Not to be grieved by1 blame, 2But to know thorough1tly one's own virtue2s or powers 3Are the characterist1ics of an excellent 2man. 3Every one is the son0 of his own works. 2Life every man holds0 dear; but the dear 2man holds honor 3far more precious de1ar than life. 2True dignity is neve0r gained by place, 2and never lost when 1honors are withdrawn2. 3The discipline of de0sire is the backgrou2nd of character. 3Honor is like an isl0and, rugged and with2out shores; 3we can never re-ente1r it once we are on 2the outside. 3It is in men as in s0oils where sometimes2 there is a vein 3of gold which the ow1ner knows not of. 2Be your character wh0at it will, it will 2be known; 3and nobody will take1 it upon your word. 2The integrity of men0 is to be measured b2y their conduct, 3not by their profess1ions. 2Action, looks, words0, steps, form the al2phabet by which you 3may spell character.1A man never shows hi0s own character so p2lainly as by his 3manner of portraying1 another's. 2Our own heart, and n0ot other men's opini2on, form our true 3honor. 1It is with trifles, 0and when he is off g2uard, that a man 3best reveals his cha1racter. 2The measure of a man0's real character is2 what he would do 3if he knew he would 1never be found out. 2Characters do not ch0ange. - Opinions alt2er, but characters 3are only developed. 1Character is like a 0tree and reputation 2like its shadow. 3The shadow is what w1e think of it; 2the tree is the real1 thing. 2Reputation is only a0...candle, of waveri2ng and uncertain 3flame, and easily bl1own out, but it is t2he light by which 3the world looks for 1and finds merit. 2Your character will 0be what you yourself2 choose to make it. 3Character is the res0ult of two things: 2Mental attitude and 1the way we spend our2 time. 3If you create an act0, you create a habit2. 3If you create a habi1t, you create a char2acter. 3If you create a char1acter, you create a 2destiny. 3Good character is no0t formed in a week o2r a month. It is 3created little by li1ttle, day by day. P2rotracted and 3patient effort is ne1eded to develop good2 character. 3Integrity has no nee0d of rules. 2As a plain garment b0est adorneth a beaut2iful woman, so a 3decent behaviour is 1the best ornament of2 inner wisdom. 3The best man in his 0dwelling loves the e2arth. 3 In his heart, he l1oves what is profoun2d. 3 In his association1s, he loves humanity2. 3 In his words, he l1oves faithfulness. 2 In government, he 1loves order. 2 In handling affair1s, he loves competen2ce. 3 In his activities,1 he loves timeliness2. 3 It is because he d1oes not compete that2 he is 3 without reproach1. 2To be fond of learni0ng is near to wisdom2; 3to practice with vig1or is near to benevo2lence; 3and to be conscious 1of shame is near to 2fortitude. 3He who knows these t1hree things 2knows how to cultiva1te his own character2. 3What is honorable is0 also safest. 2The highest of chara0cters, in my estimat2ion, 3is as ready to pardo1n the moral errors o2f mankind, 3as if he were every 1day guilty of some h2imself; 3and at the same time1 as cautious of comm2itting a fault 3as if he never forga1ve one. 2The purest treasure 0mortal time afford 2Is spotless reputati1on; that away, 2Men are but gilded l1oam or painted clay.2In all the affairs o0f this world, so muc2h reputation is, 3in reality, so much 1power. 2Character is higher 0than intellect. A g2reat soul will be 3strong to live as we1ll as think. 2Property may be dest0royed and money may 2lose its purchasing 3power; but, characte1r, health, knowledge2 and good judgement 3will always be in de1mand under all condi2tions. 3Clear conscience nev0er fears midnight kn2ocking. 3To disregard what th0e world thinks of us2 is not only 3arrogant but utterly1 shameless. 2No one ever lost his0 honor, except he wh2o had it not. 3How difficult it is 0to save the bark of 2reputation from 3the rocks of ignoran1ce. 2The qualities we hav0e do not make us so 2ridiculous as 3those which we affec1t to have. 2Honor is but an empt0y bubble. 2Those who quit their0 proper character to2 assume what does 3not belong to them, 1are for the greater 2part ignorant of 3both the character t1hey leave and of the2 character they 3assume. 1No change of circums0tances can repair a 2defect of character.3Honor is simply the 0morality of superior2 men. 3A man without ethics0 is a wild beast loo2sed upon this world.3Be thou incapable of0 change in that whic2h is right, and 3men will rely upon t1hee. Establish unto2 thyself principles 3of action; and see t1hat thou ever act ac2cording to them. 3First know that thy 1principles are just,2 and then be thou 3inflexible in the pa1th of them. 2Be upright in thy wh0ole life; be content2 in all its changes;3so shalt thou make t1hy profit out of all2 occurrences; so 3shall everything tha1t happeneth unto the2e be the source of 3praise. 1The superior man acq0uaints himself with 2many 3sayings of antiquity1 and many deeds of t2he past, 3in order to strength1en his character the2reby. 3The stages of the No0ble Path are: Right2 View, Right 3Thought, Right Speec1h, Right Behavior, R2ight Livelihood, 3Right Effort, Right 1Mindfulness and Righ2t Concentration. 3Do not appease thy f0ellow in his hour of2 anger; do not 3comfort him while th1e dead is still laid2 out before him; 3do not question him 1in the hour of his v2ow; and do not 3strive to see him in1 his hour of misfort2une. 3The way to gain a go0od reputation is to 2endeavor to be 3what you desire to a1ppear. 2Let not a man do wha0t his sense of right2 bids him not to 3do, nor desire what 1it forbids him to de2sire. This is 3sufficient. The ski1llful artist will no2t alter his 3measures for the sak1e of a stupid workma2n. 3In honorable dealing0 you should consider2 what you intended, 3not what you said or1 thought. 2Let honor be to us a0s strong an obligati2on as necessity is 3to others. 1Everyone ought to be0ar patiently the res2ults of his own 3conduct. 1When about to commit0 a base deed, respec2t thyself, 3though there is no w1itness. 2When a chivalrous ma0n makes an oath, he 2is faithful to it, 3and when he attains 1power, he spares his2 enemy. 3Honour and shame fro0m no condition rise;2Act well your part, 1there all the honour2 lies. 3Say not you know ano0ther entirely till y2ou have divided an 3inheritance with him1. 2Human improvement is0 from within outward2. 3By constant self-dis0cipline and self-con2trol you can develop3greatness of charact1er. 2Adhere To - Faith, U0nity, Sacrifice. 2Avoid - Back-biting,1 Falsehood and Crook2edness. 3Admire - Frankness, 1Honesty and Large-he2artedness. 3Control - Tongue, Te1mper and Tossing of 2the mind. 3Cultivate - Cosmic L1ove, Forgiveness and2 Patience. 3Hate - Lust, Anger a1nd Pride. 2Faced with crisis, t0he man of character 2falls back on 3himself. He imposes1 his own stamp of ac2tion, takes 3responsibility for i1t, makes it his own.2If you stand straigh0t 2Do not fear a crooke1d shadow. 2As fire when thrown 0into water is cooled2 down and put out, 3so also a false accu1sation when brought 2against a man of 3the purest and holie1st character, boils 2over and is at 3once dissipated, and1 vanishes. 2They attack the one 0man with their hate 2and their shower of 3weapons. But he is 1like some rock which2 stretches into 3the vast sea and whi1ch, exposed to the f2ury of the winds 3and beaten against b1y the waves, endures2 all the violence 3and threats of heave1n and sea, himself s2tanding unmoved. 3In all thy humours, 0whether grave or mel2low, 3Thou art such a touc1hy, testy, pleasant 2fellow; 3Hast so much wit, an1d mirth, and spleen 2about thee, 3That there's no livi1ng with thee, or wit2hout thee. 3O reputation! deare0r far than life, 2Thou precious balsam1, lovely, sweet of s2mell, 3Whose cordial drops 1once spilt by some r2ash hand, 3Not all the owner's 1care, nor the repent2ing toil 3Of the rude spiller,1 ever can collect 2To its first purity 1and native sweetness2. 3O, he sits high in a0ll the people's hear2ts; 3And that which would1 appear offence in u2s, 3His countenance, lik1e richest alchemy, 2Will change to virtu1e and to worthiness.2Of Manners gentle, o0f Affections mild; 2In Wit a man; Simpli1city, a child. 2Zealous, yet modest;0 innocent, though fr2ee; 3Patient of toil; ser1ene amidst alarms; 2Inflexible in faith;1 invincible in arms.2I have but one syste0m of ethics for men 2and for nations - 3to be grateful, to b1e faithful to all en2gagements and under 3all circumstances, t1o be open and genero2us, promoting in the3long run even the in1terests of both. 2The reason firm, the0 temperate will. 2Endurance, forsight,1 strength and skill.2The louder he talked0 of his honor 2the faster we counte1d our spoons. 2Courage consists not0 in hazarding withou2t fear, 3but being resolutely1 minded in a just ca2use. 3True bravery is show0n by performing with2out witness 3what one might be ca1pable of doing befor2e all the world. 3Courage consists not0 in blindly overlook2ing danger, 3but in seeing it, an1d conquering it. 2Self-truth is the es0sence of heroism. 2Courage - a perfect 0sensibility of the m2easure of danger, 3and a mental willing1ness to endure it. 2Courage is resistanc0e to fear, mastery o2f fear, 3not absence of fear.1Courage is fear hold0ing on a minute long2er. 3The wicked flee when0 no one pursues, 2 but the righteous 1are bold as a lion. 2He who is brave in d0aring will be killed2. 3He who is brave in n1ot daring will live.2Of these two, one is1 advantageous and on2e is harmful. 3Who knows why Heaven1 dislikes what it di2slikes? 3Even the sage consid1ers it a difficult q2uestion... 3There is a wide diff0erence between true 2courage and a mere 3contempt of life. 1No man can be brave 0who thinks pain the 2greatest evil; 3nor temperate, who c1onsiders pleasure th2e highest good 3Courage leads to hea0ven; fear, to death.2Courage stands halfw0ay between cowardice2 and rashness, 3one of which is a la1ck, the other an exc2ess, of courage. 3A timid person is fr0ightened before a da2nger, a coward 3during the time, and1 a courageous person2 afterwards. 3Courage is fire, and0 bullying is smoke. 2Courage enlarges, co0wardice diminishes r2esources. 3In desperate straits1 the fears of the ti2mid 3aggravate the danger1s that imperil the b2rave. 3The more thou dost a0dvance, the more thy2 feet pitfalls will 3meet. The Path that1 leadeth on is light2ed by one fire- 3the light of daring 1burning in the heart2. The more one 3dares, the more he s1hall obtain. The mo2re he fears, the 3more that light shal1l pale - and that al2one can guide. 3The paradox of coura0ge is that a man mus2t be a little 3careless of his life1 in order to keep it2. 3Say not that honour 0is the child of bold2ness, nor believe 3thou that the hazard1 of life alone can p2ay the price of it: 3it is not to the act1ion that it is due, 2but to the manner 3of performing it. 1I count him braver w0ho overcomes his des2ires than him who 3conquers his enemies1; for the hardest vi2ctory is over self. 3A man of courage is 0also full of faith. 2Fortune can take awa0y riches, but not co2urage. 3A true knight is ful0ler of bravery in th2e midst, 3than in the beginnin1g of danger. 2Most men have more c0ourage than even the2y themselves 3think they have. 1We can never be cert0ain of our courage u2ntil we have 3faced danger. 1Courage from hearts 0and not from numbers2 grows. 3It is in great dange0rs that we see great2 courage. 3Courage is poorly ho0used that dwells in 2numbers; 3the lion never count1s the herd that are 2about him, 3nor weighs how many 1flocks he has to sca2tter. 3One man with courage0 makes a majority. 2The courage we desir0e and prize is not t2he courage to die 3decently, but to liv1e manfully. 2All brave men love; 0for he only is brave1 who has affections 2to fight for, 3whether in the daily1 battle of life, 2or in physical conte1sts. 2A decent boldness ev0er meets with friend2s. 3Courage conquers all0 things: it even giv2es strength 3to the body. 1Fortune and love fav0or the brave. 2There is nothing in 0the world so much ad2mired as a man 3who knows how to bea1r unhappiness with c2ourage. 3True courage is cool0 and calm. 2The bravest of men h1ave the least of a b2rutal, bullying 3insolence, and in th1e very time of dange2r are found the most3serene and free. 1The brave love mercy0, and delight to sav2e. 3Courage and modesty 0are the most unequiv2ocal of virtues, 3for they are of a ki1nd that hypocrisy ca2nnot imitate; 3they too have this q1uality in common, 2that they are expres1sed by the same colo2r. 3Heroism - the divine0 relation which, in 2all times, 3unites a great man t1o other men. 2There is always safe0ty in valor. 2You will never do an0ything in this world2 without courage. 3It is the greatest q1uality of the mind n2ext to honor. 3Courage is the first0 of human qualities 2because it is the 3quality which guaran1tees all the others.2To see what is right0, and not do it, is 2want of courage, 3or of principle. 1The human race afrai0d of nothing, 2rushes on through ev1ery crime. 2Take away ambitions 0and vanity, and wher2e will be your 3heroes and patriots?1Valor hath its bound0s, as well as other 2virtues, which once 3transgressed, the ne1xt step is into the 2territories of vice,3so that, by having t1oo large a proportio2n of this heroic 3virtue...may unaware1s run into temerity,2 obstinacy, and 3folly. 1He who loses wealth 0loses much; 2he who loses a frien1d loses more; 2but he that loses hi1s courage loses all.2Valor employed in an0 ill quarrel, turns 2to cowardice; 3and virtue then puts1 on foul vice's vizo2r. 3Valor that parleys i0s near yielding. 2The more wit the les0s courage. 2No man is a hero to 0his valet. 2Who combats bravely 0is not therefore bra2ve: 3He dreads a deathbed1 like the meanest sl2ave. 3Personal courage is 0really a very subord2inate virtue... 3in which we are surp1assed by the lower a2nimals. 3It is an error to su0ppose that courage m2eans courage in 3everything. Most pe1ople are brave only 2in the dangers 3to which they accust1om themselves, eithe2r in imagination 3or practice. 1Never ask the gods f0or life set free fro2m grief, 3but ask for courage 1that endureth long. 2The burden which is 0well borne becomes l2ight. 3No one reaches a hig0h position without d2aring. 3The brave and bold p0ersist even against 2fortune; 3the timid and coward1ly rush to despair t2hough fear alone. 3Aspire rather to be 0a hero than merely a2ppear one. 3Rest not! Life is s0weeping by; go and d2are before you die. 3Something mighty and1 sublime, leave behi2nd to conquer time. 3A hero is no braver 0than an ordinary man2, 3but he is braver fiv1e minutes longer. 2Nurture your minds w0ith great thoughts, 2to believe in the he1roic makes heroes. 2Write on your doors 0the saying wise and 2old. 3"Be bold!" and every1where - "Be bold; 2Be not too bold!" Y1et better the excess2Than the defect; bet1ter the more than le2ss... 3As a rock on the sea0shore he standeth fi2rm, and the dashing 3of the waves disturb1eth him not. He rai2seth his head like 3a tower on a hill, a1nd the arrows of for2tune drop at his 3feet. In the instan1t of danger, the cou2rage of his heart 3sustaineth him; and 1the steadiness of hi2s mind beareth him 3out. 1O friends, be men; s0o act that none may 2feel ashamed to 3meet the eyes of oth1er men. Think each 2one of his children 3and his wife, his ho1me, his parents, liv2ing yet or dead. 3For them, the absent1 ones, I supplicate,2 and bid you rally 3here, and scorn to f1ly. 2And what he greatly 0thought, he nobly da2red. 3Valour, glory, firmn0ess, skill, generosi2ty, steadiness in 3battle and ability t1o rule - these const2itute the duty of a 3soldier. They flow 1from his own nature.2Courage in danger is0 half the battle. 2Go on and increase i0n valor, O boy! 2this is the path to 1immortality. 2That's a valiant fle0a that dares eat his2 breakfast on the 3lip of a lion. 1He either fears his 0fate too much, 2 Or his deserts are1 small, 2That dares not put i1t to the touch, 2 To gain or lose it1 all. 2He was a bold man th0at first ate an oyst2er. 3Tender handed stroke0 a nettle, 2And it stings you fo1r your pains; 2Grasp it like a man 1of mettle, 2And it soft as silk 1remains. 2A light supper, a go0od night's sleep, an2d a fine morning 3have often made a he1ro of the same man w2ho, by indigestion, 3a restless night, an1d a rainy morning, w2ould have proved 3a coward. 1The prudent see only0 the difficulties, t2he bold only the 3advantages, of a gre1at enterprise; the h2ero sees both; 3diminishes the forme1r and makes the latt2er preponderate, 3and so conquers. 1No man is a hero to 0his valet. This is 2not because the hero3is no hero, but beca1use the valet is a v2alet. 3The hero is not fed 0on sweets, 2Daily his own heart 1he eats; 2Chambers of the grea1t are jails, 2And head-winds right1 for royal sails. 2One who never turned0 his back but marche2d breast forward, 3 never doubted clou1ds would break, 2Never dreamed, thoug1h right were worsted2, 3 wrong would triump1h, 2Held we fall to rise1, are baffled to fig2ht better, 3 sleep to wake. 1In the world's broad0 field of battle, 2 In the bivouac of 1Life, 2Be not like dumb, dr1iven cattle! 2 Be a hero in the s1trife. 2Stand upright, speak0 thy thoughts, decla2re 3The truth thou hast,1 that all may share;2Be bold, proclaim it1 everywhere: 2They only live who d1are. 2A man not perfect, b0ut of heart 2 So high, of such h1eroic rage, 2That even his hopes 1became a part 2 Of earth's eternal1 heritage. 2Out of the night tha0t covers me, 2 Black as the pit f1rom pole to pole, 2I thank whatever god1s may be 2 For my unconquerab1le soul. 2Envy is the adversar0y of the fortunate. 2From covetousness an0ger proceeds; from c2ovetousness lust 3is born; from coveto1usness come delusion2 and perdition. 3Covetousness is the 1cause of sin. 2Desire of having is 0the sin of covetousn2ess. 3Jealousy is the fear0 or apprehension of 2superiority; 3envy our uneasiness 1under it. 2Covetousness is a so0rt of mental glutton2y, not confined to 3money, but greedy of1 honor and feeding o2n selfishness. 3Jealousy - magnifier0 of trifles. 2Envy is littleness o0f soul. 2Selfishness is not l0iving as one wishes 2to live. 3It is asking others 1to live as one wishe2s to live. 3The things which bel0ong to others please2 us more, 3and that which is ou1rs, is more pleasing2 to others. 3The lust of avarice 0has so totally seize2d upon mankind 3that their wealth se1ems rather to posses2s them 3than they possess th1eir wealth. 2True it is that cove0tousness is rich, mo2desty starves. 3In plain truth, it i0s not want, but rath2er abundance, 3that creates avarice1. 2Our envy always last0s longer than the ha2ppiness of those we 3envy. 1Covetousness is both0 the beginning and t2he end of the 3devil's alphabet - t1he first vice in cor2rupt nature that 3moves, and the last 1which dies. 2Envy will merit, as 0its shade pursue, 2but like a shadow, p1roves the substance 2true. 3Envy ought to have n0o place allowed it i2n the heart of man; 3for the goods of thi1s present world are 2so vile and low that3they are beneath it;1 and those of the fu2ture world are so 3vast and exalted tha1t they are above it.2The same people who 0can deny others ever2ything 3are famous for refus1ing themselves nothi2ng. 3Selfishness is the o0nly real atheism; 2aspiration, unselfis1hness, the only real2 religion. 3There is no calamity0 greater than lavish2 desires. 3There is no greater 1guilt than disconten2tment. 3And there is no grea1ter disaster than gr2eed. 3He who is contented 1with contentment is 2always contented. 3Of all the worldly p0assions, lust is the2 most intense. 3All other worldly pa1ssions seem to follo2w in its train. 3Just as a tree, thou0gh cut down, can gro2w again and again 3if its roots are und1amaged and strong, i2n the same way if 3the roots of craving1 are not wholly upro2oted sorrows will 3come again and again1. 2Envy, like flame, so0ars upwards. 2Envy assails the nob0lest: the winds how2l around the 3highest peaks. 1Envy always implies 0conscious inferiorit2y wherever it 3resides. 1Lust of power is the0 most flagrant of al2l passions. 3He that is jealous i0s not in love. 2Envy is ever joined 0with the comparing o2f a man's self; 3and where there is n1o comparison, no env2y. 3Excess of wealth is 0cause of covetousnes2s. 3Envy, like the worm,0 never runs but to t2he fairest fruit; 3like a cunning blood1hound, it singles ou2t the fattest deer 3in the flock. 1In jealousy there is0 more self-love than2 love. 3Jealousy lives upon 0doubts, it becomes m2adness or ceases 3entirely as soon as 1we pass from doubt t2o certainty. 3Poverty wants some, 0luxury many, and ava2rice all things. 3The envious will die0, but envy never. 2The covetous man hea0ps up riches, not to2 enjoy them, 3but to have them. 1Nature is content wi0th little; grace wit2h less; 3but lust with nothin1g. 2If we did but know h0ow little some enjoy2 of the great things3that they possess, t1here would not be mu2ch to envy in the 3world. 1Avarice is generally0 the last passion of2 those lives of 3which the first part1 has been squandered2 in pleasure, and 3the second devoted t1o ambition. 2A man is called self0ish, not for pursuin2g his own good, 3but for neglecting t1he neighbor's. 2The deepest principl0e in human nature is2 the craving to be 3appreciated. 1The soul of man is i0nfinite in what it c2ovets. 3Though we take from 0a covetous man all h2is treasure, he has 3yet one jewel left; 1you cannot bereave h2im of his 3covetousness. 1Jealousy is, in some0 sort, rational and 2just; it aims at 3the preservation of 1a good which belongs2, or which we think 3belongs, to us; wher1eas envy is a frenzy2 that cannot 3endure, even in idea1, the good of others2. 3Misers are very kind0 people: 2they amass wealth fo1r those who wish the2ir death. 3Fools may our scorn,0 not envy raise, 2for envy is a kind o1f praise. 2Envy, to which the i0gnoble mind's a slav2e, 3Is emulation in the 1learned or brave. 2Avarice, the spur of0 industry. 2Envy, among other in0gredients, has a mix2ture of the love of 3justice in it. We a1re more angry at und2eserved than at 3deserved good fortun1e. 2It is astonishing ho0w well men wear when2 they think of no 3one but themselves. 1Bare-faced covetousn0ess was the moving s2pirit of 3civilization from th1e first dawn to the 2present day... 3Selfishness is the d0ynamo of our economi2c system...which may3range from mere pett1y greed to admirable2 types of self- 3expression. 1An immoderate desire0 of riches is a pois2on lodged in the 3mind. It contaminat1es and destroys ever2ything that was 3good in it. It is n1o sooner rooted ther2e, than all virtue, 3all honesty, all nat1ural affection, fly 2before the face of 3it. 1The heart of the env0ious is gall and bit2terness; his tongue 3spitteth venom; the 1success of his neigh2bour breaketh his 3rest. He sitteth in1 his cell repining; 2and the good that 3happeneth to another1, is to him an evil.2 Hatred and malice 3feed upon his heart,1 and there is no res2t in him. 3Can a man carry fire0 in his bosom 2 and his clothes no1t be burned? 2Or can one walk upon1 hot coals 2 and his feet not b1e scorched? 2So is he who goes in1 to his neighbor's w2ife; 3 none who touches h1er will go unpunishe2d. 3An envious man waxet0h lean with the fatn2ess of his 3neighbors. Envy is 1the daughter of prid2e, the author of 3murder and revenge, 1the beginner of secr2et sedition, and the3perpetual tormentor 1of virtue. Envy is 2the filthy slime of 3the soul; a venom, a1 poison, or quicksil2ver which consumeth 3the flesh, and driet1h up the marrow of t2he bones. 3As iron is eaten by 0rust, so are the env2ious consumed 3by envy. 1Those who are enviou0s and mischievous, w2ho are the lowest 3among men, are cast 1by Me into the ocean2 of material 3existence, into vari1ous demoniac species2 of life. 3The avaricious man i0s like the barren sa2ndy ground of the 3desert which sucks i1n all the rain and d2ew with greediness, 3but yields no fruitf1ul herbs or plants f2or the benefit of 3others. 1Four things does a r0eckless man gain who2 covets his 3neighbor's wife - de1merit, an uncomforta2ble bed, thirdly, 3punishment, and last1ly, hell. 2Avarice, in old age,0 is foolish; for wha2t can be more 3absurd than to incre1ase our provisions f2or the road the 3nearer we approach t1o our journey's end?2The envious man grow0s lean at the succes2s of his neighbor. 3The miser acquires, 0yet fears to use his2 gains. 3The miser is as much0 in want of what he 2has 3as of what he has no1t. 2Lust is an enemy to 0the purse, a foe to 2the person, 3a canker to the mind1, a corrosive to the2 conscience, 3a weakness of the wi1t, a besotter of the2 senses, 3and, finally, a mort1al bane to all the b2ody. 3Some men make fortun0es, but not to enjoy2 them; for, blinded 3by avarice, they liv1e to make fortunes. 2When men are full of0 envy they disparage2 everything, 3whether it be good o1r bad. 2As a moth gnaws a ga0rment, so doth envy 2consume a man. 3Nothing can allay th0e rage of biting env2y. 3Though an avaricious0 man possesses wealt2h, 3An envious man posse1sses another's goods2, 3And an ill-minded ma1n possesses his lear2ning- 3None of these can pr1oduce lasting pleasu2re. 3Envy is like a fly t0hat passes all a bod2y's sounder parts, 3and dwells upon the 1sores. 2Every other sin hath0 some pleasure annex2ed to it, or will 3admit of an excuse: 1 envy alone wants bo2th. 3The virtues are lost0 in self-interest 2as rivers are lost i1n the sea. 2Avarice is insatiabl0e and is always push2ing on for more. 3Covetousness, by a g0reediness of getting2 more, 3deprives itself of t1he true end of getti2ng; 3it loses the enjoyme1nt of what it had go2t. 3Avarice is always po0or, but poor by her 2own fault. 3The selfish man suff0ers more from his se2lfishness than he 3from whom that selfi1shness withholds som2e important 3benefit. 1No man is more cheat0ed than the selfish 2man. 3Covetousness has for0 its mother unlawful2 desire, for its 3daughter injustice, 1and for its friend v2iolence. 3Attribute not the go0od actions of anothe2r to bad causes: 3thou canst not know 1his heart; but the w2orld will know by 3this that thine is f1ull of envy. 2Thou shalt not covet0 thy neighbor's hous2e, thou shalt not 3covet thy neighbor's1 wife, nor is manser2vant, nor his 3maidservant, nor his1 ox, nor his ass, no2r anything that is 3thy neighbor's. 1Form no covetous des0ire, so that the dem2on of greediness 3may not deceive thee1, and the treasure o2f the world may 3not be tasteless to 1thee. 2Do not overrate what0 you have received, 2nor envy others. 3He who envies others1 does not obtain pea2ce of mind. 3The demon of worldly0 desires is always s2eeking chances to 3deceive the mind. I1f a viper lives in y2our room and you 3wish to have a peace1ful sleep, you must 2first chase it out. 3Refrain from covetou0sness, and thy estat2e shall prosper. 3As fire is covered b0y smoke, as a mirror2 is covered by dust,3or as an embryo is c1overed by the womb, 2similarly the living3entity is covered by1 different degrees o2f lust which veils 3real knowledge and i1s never satisfied. 2Therefore regulate 3the senses in the be1ginning and slay thi2s destroyer of 3knowledge and self-r1ealization. 2If you wish to remov0e avarice you must r2emove its mother, 3luxury. 1Expel avarice, the m0other of all wickedn2ess, who, always 3thirsty for more, op1ens wide her jaws fo2r gold. 3An enemy to whom you0 show kindness becom2es your friend, 3excepting lust, the 1indulgence of which 2increases its 3enmity. 1The greatest harm th0at you can do unto t2he envious, 3is to do well. 1Envy not greatness: 0 for thou makest the2reby 3Thyself the worse, a1nd so the distance g2reater. 3All jealousy must be0 strangled in its bi2rth, or time will 3soon make it strong 1enough to overcome t2he truth. 3Do not believe that 0lust can ever be kil2led out if gratified3or satiated, for thi1s is an abomination 2inspired by 3illusion. It is by 1feeding vice that it2 expands and waxes 3strong, like to the 1worm that fattens on2 the blossom's 3heart. 1Selfishness is the g0reatest sin. It con2strains the heart. 3It separates man fro1m man. It makes him2 greedy. It is the 3root of all evils an1d sufferings. Destr2oy selfishness 3through selfless ser1vice, charity, gener2osity and love. 3He that visits the s0ick in hopes of a le2gacy, but is never 3so friendly in all o1ther cases, I look u2pon him as being no 3better than a raven 1that watches a weak 2sheep only to peck 3out its eyes. 1Surely, those who sw0allow the property o2f the orphans 3unjustly, swallow no1thing but fire into 2their bellies, 3and they shall soon 1enter into the flami2ng fire. 3Arise, fair sun, and0 kill the envious mo2on, 3Who is already sick 1and pale with grief,2That thou her maid a1rt far more fair tha2n she: 3Be not her maid, sin1ce she is envious. 2Hoards after hoards 0his rising raptures 2fill; 3Yet still he sighs, 1for hoards are wanti2ng still. 3O, Jealousy, thou ug0liest fiend of hell!2 thy deadly venom 3preys on my vitals, 1turns the healthful 2hue of my fresh 3cheek to haggard sal1lowness, and drinks 2my spirit up. 3Despite those titles0, power, and pelf, 2The wretch, concentr1ed all in self, 2Living, shall forfei1t fair renown, 2And, doubly dying, s1hall go down 2To the vile dust fro1m whence he sprung, 2Unwept, unhonoured a1nd unsung. 2Envy is the defromed0 and distorted offsp2ring of egotism; 3and when we reflect 1on the strange and d2isproportioned 3character of the par1ent, we cannot wonde2r at the perversity 3and waywardness of t1he child. 2Yet he was jealous, 0though he did not sh2ow it, 3For jealousy dislike1s the world to know 2it. 3 ...The last vib0ration of the sevent2h eternity thrills 3through infinitude. 1 The mother swells, 2expanding from 3within without, like1 the bud of the lotu2s. 3 The vibration s1weeps along, touchin2g with its swift 3wing the whole unive1rse and the germ tha2t dwelleth in dark- 3ness: the darkness 1that breathes over t2he slumbering waters3of life... 1 Darkness radiat1es light, and light 2drops one solitary 3ray into the mother-1deep. The ray shoot2s through the 3virgin egg. The ray1 causes the eternal 2egg to thrill, and 3drop the non-eternal1 germ, which condens2es into the 3world-egg... 1These are the ten sp0heres of existence o2ut of nothing. 3From the spirit of t1he living God emanat2ed air, from the 3air, water, from the1 water, fire or ethe2r, from the ether, 3the height and the d1epth, the East and W2est, the North 3and South. 1In the beginning God0 created the Heaven 2and the earth. And 3the earth was withou1t form, and void; an2d darkness was upon 3the face of the deep1. And the Spirit of2 God moved upon the 3face of the waters. 1 And God said, Let t2here be light, and 3there was light. 1This is the truth: 0As from a fire aflam2e thousands of 3sparks come forth, e1ven so from the Crea2tor an infinity 3of beings have life 1and to him return ag2ain. 3As a spider emits an0d draws in its threa2d, 3As plants arise on t1he earth, 2As the hairs of the 1head and body from a2 living person, 3So from The Eternal 1arises everything he2re. 3Before God manifeste0d Himself, when all 2things were still 3hidden in Him...He b1egan by forming an i2mperceptible point; 3that was His own tho1ught. With this tho2ught He then began 3to construct a myste1rious and holy form.2..the Universe. 3Nature is the glass 0reflecting God, as b2y the sea reflected 3is the sun, too glor1ious to be gazed on 2in his sphere. 3Nature is but a name0 for an effect whose2 cause is God. 3Nature is the time-v0esture of God that r2eveals him to the 3wise, and hides him 1from the foolish. 2What is art? Nature0 concentrated. 2Nature is a mutable 0cloud which is alway2s and never the 3same. 1For Art is Nature ma0de by man 2To Man the interpret1er of God. 2Father-Mother spin a0 web whose upper end2 is fastened to 3spirit - the light o1f the one darkness -2 and the lower one 3to its shadowy end, 1matter; and this web2 is the universe 3spun out of the two 1substances made in o2ne... 3The decade of existe0nce out of nothing h2as its end linked 3to its beginning and1 its beginning linke2d to its end, 3just as the flame is1 wedded to the live 2coal; because the 3Lord is one and ther1e is not a second on2e, and before one 3what wilt thou count1? 2In wisdom and unders0tanding we have the 2archetypal Positive 3and Negative, the pr1imordial Maleness an2d Femaleness, 3established while "c1ountenance beheld no2t countenance" and 3manifestation was in1cipient. It is from2 these primary Pairs3of Opposites that th1e Pillars of the Uni2verse spring, 3between which is wov1en the web of Manife2station. 3The Creative knows t0he great beginnings.2The Receptive comple1tes the finished thi2ngs. 3 The Creative, in a0 state of rest, is o2ne, 3and in a state of mo1tion it is straight;2therefore it creates1 that which is great2. 3 The Receptive is c1losed in a state of 2rest, 3and in a state of mo1tion it opens; 2therefore it creates1 that which is vast.2The Nameless is the 0origin of Heaven and2 Earth; 3The Named is the mot1her of all things. 2Therefore let there 1always be non-being 2 so we may see thei1r subtlety, 2And let there always1 be being so we may 2see their outcome. 3The two are the same1, 2But after they are p1roduced, they have d2ifferent names. 3They both may be cal1led deep and profoun2d. 3Deeper and more prof1ound, 2The door of all subt1leties! 2There are two aspect0s in Nature: the pe2rishable and the 3imperishable. All l1ife in this world be2longs to the former,3the unchanging eleme1nt belongs to the la2tter. 3Emanation is the Res0ulting displayed fro2m the Unresulting, 3the Finite from the 1Infinite, the Manifo2ld and Composite 3from the Perfect Sin1gle and Simple, Pote2ntiality from that 3which is Infinite Po1wer and Act, the mob2ile from that which 3is perennially perma1nent; and therefore 2in a more imperfect 3and diminished mode 1than His Infinite Pe2rfection is. 3Surely God causes th0e seed and the stone2 to sprout; 3He brings forth the 1living from the dead2, 3and He is the bringe1r forth of the dead 2from the living. 3The point appeared i0n the circle, yet wa2sn't. 3Rather, it was the c1ircle, traversed by 2the point. 3To one who has compl1eted the circle, 2 the point exists o1n the circumference.2The whole world I sa1id is His imaginatio2n, 3 then I saw: His i1magination is Himsel2f. 3In nature things mov0e violently to their2 place, 3and calmly in their 1place. 2For Art may err, but0 Nature cannot miss.2The double law of at0traction and radiati2on or of sympathy 3and antipathy, of fi1xedness and movement2, which is the 3principle of Creatio1n, and the perpetual2 cause of life. 3The soil, in return 0for her service, kee2ps the tree 3tied to her; the sky1 asks nothing and le2aves it free. 3Art is the stored ho0ney of the human sou2l, 3gathered on wings of1 misery and travail.2Art is a lie that ma0kes us realize truth2. 3 ...The eternal 0vital power builds t2hem in the likeness 3of older worlds, pla1cing them on the Imp2erishable Centres. 3 How does he bui1ld them? He collect2s the fiery dust. 3He makes balls of fi1re, runs through the2m, and round them, 3infusing life therei1nto, then sets them 2into motion; some 3one way, some the ot1her way. They are c2old, he makes them 3hot. They are dry, 1he makes them moist.2 They shine, he 3fans and cools them.1 Thus he acts from 2one twilight to the 3other, during Seven 1Eternities. 2The appearance of th0e ten spheres out of2 manifestation 3is like a flash of l1ightning, being with2out an end, His 3word is in them, whe1n they go and return2; they run by 3His order like a whi1rlwind and humble th2emselves before 3His throne. 1Polarity is the prin0ciple that runs thro2ugh the whole of 3creation, and is, in1 fact, the basis of 2manifestation. 3Polarity really mean1s the flowing of for2ce from a sphere 3of high pressure to 1a sphere of low pres2sure; high and low 3being always relativ1e terms. Every sphe2re of energy needs 3to receive the stimu1lus of an influx of 2energy at higher 3pressure, and to hav1e an output into a s2phere of lower 3pressure. The sourc1e of all energy is t2he Great Unmanifest,3and it makes its own1 way down the levels2, changing its form 3from one to the othe1r, till it is finall2y "earthed" in 3matter. 1The pure impulse of 0dynamic creation is 2formless; and being 3formless, the creati1on it gives rise to 2can assume any and 3every form. 1Great indeed is the 0sublimity of the Cre2ative, to which 3all beings owe their1 beginning and which2 permeates all 3heaven. 1The cosmos comes for0th from The Eternal,2 and moves 3In Him. With His po1wer it reverberates,2Like thunder crashin1g in the sky. Those2 who 3Realize Him pass bey1ond the sway of deat2h. 3The spirit of the va0lley never dies. 2 It is called the s1ubtle and profound f2emale. 3The gate of the subt1le and profound fema2le 3 Is the root of Hea1ven and Earth. 2It is continuous, an1d seems to be always2 existing. 3Use it and you will 1never wear it out. 2The Eternal generate0s the One. 2The One generates th1e Two. 2The Two generates th1e Three. 2The Three generates 1all things. 2All things have dark1ness at their back 2and strive towards t1he light, 2and the flowing powe1r gives them harmony2. 3Painting is silent p0oetry, and poetry is2 painting that 3speaks. 1A picture is a poem 0without words. 2The aim of art is to0 represent not the o2utward appearance 3of things, but their1 inward significance2. 3Nothing which we can0 imagine about Natur2e is incredible. 3The perfection of ar0t is to conceal art.2Nature never says on0e thing, Wisdom anot2her. 3God has made all thi0ngs out of nothing: 2 because...even 3though the world has1 been made of some m2aterial, that 3very same material h1as been made out of 2nothing. 3Art, as far as it is0 able, follows natur2e, as a pupil 3imitates his master;1 thus your art must 2be, as it were, 3God's grandchild. 1Nature never breaks 0her own laws. 2The true work of art0 is but a shadow of 2the divine perfectio1n. 2When one is painting0 one does not think.2We call that against0 nature which cometh2 against custom. 3But there is nothing1, whatsoever it be, 2that is not 3according to nature.1Now nature is not at0 variance with art, 2nor art with nature,3they being both serv1ants of his providen2ce: art is the 3perfection of nature1; were the world now2 as it was the 3sixth day, there wer1e yet a chaos; natur2e hath made one 3world, and art anoth1er. In brief, all t2hings are 3artificial; for natu1re is the art of God2. 3Nature imitates hers0elf. A grain thrown2 into good ground 3brings forth fruit; 1a principle thrown i2nto a good mind 3brings forth fruit. 1 Everything is creat2ed and conducted by 3the same Master: th1e root, the branch, 2the fruits - the 3principles, the cons1equences. 2The highest problem 0of any art is to cau2se by appearance the3illusion of a higher1 reality. 2The ordinary true, o0r purely real, canno2t be the object of 3the arts. - Illusion1 on a ground of trut2h, that is the 3secret of the fine a1rts. 2The ideal should nev0er touch the real; 2When nature conquers1, Art must then give2 way. 3Light is the first o0f painters. There i2s no object so foul 3that intense light w1ill not make it beau2tiful. 3Art is the effort of0 man to express the 2ideas which nature 3suggests to him of a1 power above nature,2 whether that power 3be within the recess1es of his own being,2 or in the Great 3First Cause of which1 nature, like himsel2f, is but the 3effect. 1... a first cause, e0ternal, all-wise, al2mighty and 3holy, is the origin 1and the centre of th2e whole universe, 3from whom gradually 1all beings emanated.2 Thought, speech 3and action are an in1separable unity in t2he divine being. 3The object of art is0 to crystallize emot2ion into thought, 3and then fix it in f1orm. 2Art is a man's natur0e; nature is God's a2rt. 3All art does but con0sist in the removal 2of surplusage. 3Art is not a thing; 0it is a way. 2A work of art is a c0orner of creation se2en through a 3temperament. 1The process of creat0ion never stops, alt2hough, on a plane- 3tary scale, growth p1roceeds so slowly th2at if we reckon it 3in our time planetar1y conditions can be 2regarded as 3permanent for us. 1What was any art but0 a mould in which to2 imprison for a 3moment the shining, 1elusive element whic2h is life itself. 3Art does not reprodu0ce the visible; 2rather it makes it v1isible. 2THE CREATIVE works s0ublime success, 2Furthering through p1erseverance. 2Surely there is some0thing in the unruffl2ed calm of nature 3that overawes our li1ttle anxieties and d2oubts: the sight of3the deep-blue sky, a1nd the clustering st2ars above, seem to 3impart a quiet in th1e mind. 2Nature goes on her w0ay, and all that to 2us seems an 3exception is really 1according to order. 2Art is the right han0d of Nature. The la2tter has only given 3us being, the former1 has made us men. 2Art is more godlike 0than science. 2Science discovers; a1rt creates. 2Nature pleases, attr0acts, delights, mere2ly because it is 3nature. We recogniz1e in it an Infinite 2Power. 3Nature never did bet0ray the heart that l2oved her. 3For what has made th0e sage or poet write2But the fair paradis1e of Nature's light.2Nature, like a kind 0and smiling mother, 2lends herself to our3dreams and cherishes1 our fancies. 2Nothing is rich but 0the inexhaustible we2alth of nature. 3She shows us only su1rfaces, but she is m2illion fathoms 3deep. 1Art is a human activ0ity having for its p2urpose the 3transmission to othe1rs of the highest an2d best feelings 3to which men have ri1sen. 2Art is unquestionabl0y one of the purest 2and highest elements3in human happiness. 1 It trains the mind 2through the eye, and3the eye through the 1mind. As the sun co2lors flowers, so 3does art color life.1Art comes to you pos0ing frankly to give 2nothing but the 3highest quality to y1our moments as they 2pass. 3Art is the great sti0mulus to life. 2Art is like a border0 of flowers along th2e course of 3civilization. 1All art, all educati0on, can be merely a 2supplement 3to nature. 1Nature abhors annihi0lation. 2Nature too unkind; 0That made no medicin1e for a troubled min2d! 3Ah! would that we c0ould at once paint w2ith the eyes! 3In the long way, fro1m the eye, through t2he arm to the 3pencil, how much is 1lost! 2Art is difficult, tr0ansient is her rewar2d. 3Nature, red in tooth0 and claw. 2Nature has no princi0ples. She furnishes2 us with no reason 3to believe that huma1n life is to be resp2ected. Nature, in 3her indifference, ma1kes no distinction b2etween good and 3evil. 1Without art, the cru0deness of reality wo2uld make the world 3unbearable. 1There is nothing but0 art. Art is living2. To attempt to 3give an object of ar1t life by dwelling o2n its historical, 3cultural, or archaeo1logical association 2is senseless. 3In order for a creat0ion to be possible t2here must first be a3contraction, a conce1ntration of all ener2gies at a center. 3Then, an expansion m1ust occur; the gathe2red energies must 3be sent forth in con1centrated form as a 2ray or beam of 3energy. 1Let us permit nature0 to have her way; sh2e understands her 3business better than1 we do. 2Nature, to be comman0ded, must be obeyed.2And hark! how blith0e the thristle sings2! 3 He, too, is no mea1n preacher: 2Come forth into the 1light of things, 2 Let Nature be your1 teacher. 2Whatever you are fro0m nature, keep to it2; never desert your 3own line of talent. 1 Be what nature inte2nded you for, and 3you will succeed; be1 anything else, and 2you will be ten 3thousand times worse1 than nothing. 2Help Nature and work0 on with her; and Na2ture will regard 3thee as one of her c1reators and make obe2isance. And she 3will open wide befor1e thee the portals o2f her secret 3chambers, lay bare b1efore thy gaze the t2reasures hidden in 3the depths of her pu1re virgin bosom. 2Before the visible u0niverse was formed i2ts mold was cast. 3This mold was called1 the Archetype, and 2the Archetype was in3the Supreme Mind lon1g before the process2 of creation began. 3Beholding the Archet1ypes, the Supreme Mi2nd become enamored 3with Its own thought1; so, taking the Wor2d as a mighty 3hammer, It gouged ou1t caverns in primord2ial space and cast 3the form of the sphe1res in the Archetypi2cal mold, at the 3same time sowing in 1the newly fashioned 2bodies the seeds of 3living things. The 1darkness below, rece2iving the hammer of 3the Word, was fashio1ned into an orderly 2universe. 3Ten are the numbers 0out of nothing, and 2not the number nine,3ten and not eleven. 1 Comprehend this gre2at wisdom, under- 3stand this knowledge1, inquire into it an2d ponder on it, 3render it evident an1d lead the Creator b2ack to His throne 3again. 1Casteth he his eye t0owards the clouds, f2indeth he not the 3heavens full of his 1wonders? looketh he2 down to the earth, 3doth not the worm pr1oclaim "Less than om2nipotence could 3not have formed me!"1In the beginning the0 Golden Embryo arose2. Once he was born, 3he was the one lord 1of creation. He hel2d in place the earth3and this sky. He wh1o gives life, who gi2ves strength, whose 3command all the gods1, his own, obey; his2 shadow is immortal-3ity - and death. 1The Receptive is all0-potential, but iner2t. The Creative is 3pure energy, limitle1ss and tireless, but2 incapable of doing 3anything except radi1ate off into space i2f left to its own 3devices. But when t1he Creative acts upo2n the Receptive, its3energy is gathered u1p and set to work. 2When the Receptive 3receives the impulse1 of the Creative, al2l her latent 3capacities are energ1ised. 2From the ONE LIFE fo0rmless and Uncreate,2 proceeds the 3Universe of lives. 1First was manifested2 from the Deep 3(Chaos) cold luminou1s fire (gaseous ligh2t?) which formed 3the curds in Space. 1 (Irresolvable nebul2ae, perhaps?) 3...These fought, and1 a great heat was de2veloped by the 3encountering and col1lision, which produc2ed rotation. Then 3came the first manif1ested MATERIAL... 2All beings return at0 the close of every 2cosmic cycle into 3the realm of Nature,1 which is a part of 2Me, and at the 3beginning of the nex1t I send them forth 2again. With the 3help of Nature, agai1n and again I pour f2orth the whole 3multitude of beings,1 whether they will o2r no, for they are 3ruled by My Will. 1In those vernal seas0ons of the year when2 the air is calm 3and pleasant, it wer1e an injury and sull2enness against 3nature not to go out1 and see her riches,2 and partake in her 3rejoicing with heave1n and earth. 2Man's rich with litt0le, were his judgeme2nt true; 3Nature is frugal, an1d her wants are few;2These few wants answ1er'd bring sincere d2elights; 3But fools create the1mselves new appetite2s. 3Slave to no sect, wh0o takes no private r2oad, 3But looks through Na1ture up to Nature's 2God. 3Nature I loved, and 0next to Nature, Art.2'Tis to create, and 0in creating live 2A being more intense1, that we endow 2With form our fancy,1 gaining as we give 2The life we image. 1The man, who has see0n the rising moon br2eak out of the 3clouds at midnight, 1has been present lik2e an archangel 3at the creation of l1ight and of the worl2d. 3The counterfeit and 0counterpart 2Of Nature reproduced1 in art. 2Art is the child of 0Nature; yes, 2her darling child in1 whom we trace 2The features of the 1mother's face, 2Her aspect and her a1ttitude. 2Once, when the days 0were ages, 2 And the old Earth 1was young, 2The high gods and th1e sages 2From Nature's golden1 pages 2 Her open secrets w1rung. 2We take cunning for 0a sinister or crooke2d wisdom. 3Cunning...is but the0 low mimic of wisdom2. 3Cunning is the art o0f concealing our own2 defects, 3and discovering othe1r people's weaknesse2s. 3Dishonesty is a fors0aking of permanent f2or temporary 3advantages. 1Deadly poisons are c0oncealed under sweet2 honey. 3In the mind of the w0icked there is one t2hing; in their 3discourse another; t1heir conduct is anot2her. In the heart, 3in the speech, and i1n the conduct of the2 magnanimous there 3is one and the same 1thing. 2Treason doth never p0rosper: what's the 2reason? 3Why if it prosper, n1one dare call it tre2ason. 3It is as easy to dec0eive one's self with2out perceiving it, 3as it is difficult t1o deceive others wit2hout their finding 3it out. 1Cunning to wisdom is0 as an ape to man. 2Half the truth is of0ten a great lie. 2Falsehood is suscept0ible of an infinity 2of combinations, 3but truth has only o1ne mode of being. 2A liar begins with m0aking falsehood appe2ar like truth, 3and ends with making1 truth itself appear2 like falsehood. 3We are never deceive0d; we deceive oursel2ves. 3The weak in courage 0is strong in cunning2. 3Fraud and falsehood 0only dread examinati2on. 3Truth invites it. 1Falsehood is cowardi0ce, - truth is coura2ge. 3And, after all, what0 is a lie? 'Tis but2The truth in masquer1ade. 2White lies are but t0he ushers to black o2nes. 3His honour rooted in0 dishonour stood, 2And faith unfaithful1 kept him falsely tr2ue. 3The cruelest lies ar0e often told in sile2nce. 3Truth is the safest 0lie. 2Thy secret is thy pr0isoner if thou keepe2st it; 3thou art its prisone1r if thou divulgest 2it. 3If the Great Way per0ishes 2 there will moralit1y and duty. 2When cleverness and 1knowledge arise 2 great lies will fl1ourish. 2When relatives fall 1out with one another2 there will be fili1al duty and love. 2When states are in c1onfusion 2 there will be fait1hful servants. 2A lie never lives to0 be old. 2Knowledge without ju0stice ought to be ca2lled cunning rather 3than wisdom. 1No wise man ever tho0ught that a traitor 2should be trusted. 3Treachery, though at0 first very cautious2, 3in the end betrays i1tself. 2You are in a pitiabl0e condition if you h2ave to conceal what 3you wish to tell. 1One crime is conceal0ed by the commission2 of another. 3For whoever contempl0ates a crime is guil2ty of the deed. 3If one is plotting e0vil, 2He always uses pleas1ant words. 2When a hunter sees t1he game, 2He sings a sweet son1g to lure it. 2One who deceives wil0l always find those 2who allow themselves3to be deceived. 1No man was ever so m0uch deceived by anot2her as by himself. 3Cunning and treacher0y are the offspring 2of incapacity. 3The fox puts off all0 with a jest. 2All deception in the0 course of life is i2ndeed nothing else 3but a lie reduced to1 practice, and false2hood passing from 3words into things. 1Cunning leads to kna0very. - It is but a 2step from one to the3other, and that very1 slippery. - Only ly2ing makes the 3difference; add that1 to cunning, and it 2is knavery. 3Cunning has effect f0rom the credulity of2 others. 3It requires no extra1ordinary talents to 2lie and deceive. 3Falsehood is never s0o successful as when2 she baits her hook 3with truth, and no o1pinions so fastly mi2sled us as those 3that are not wholly 1wrong, as no timepie2ces so effectually 3deceive the wearer a1s those that are som2etimes right. 3Treason is like diam0onds; 2there is nothing to 1be made by the small2 trader. 3There is no lie that0 many men will not b2elieve; 3there is no man who 1does not believe man2y lies; 3and there is no man 1who believes only li2es. 3Sin has many tools, 0but a lie is the han2dle which fits them 3all. 1No one can disgrace 0us but ourselves. 2The very cunning con0ceal their cunning; 2the indifferently sh1rew boast of it. 2A lie can travel hal0f way around the wor2ld while the truth 3is putting on its sh1oes. 2Shame greatly hurts 0or greatly helps man2kind. 3Shame is an ornament0 to the young; 2a disgrace to the ol1d. 2Shame may restrain w0hat law does not pro2hibit. 3A goodly apple rotte0n at the heart; 2O, what a goodly out1side falsehood hath!2Any fool can tell th0e truth, but it requ2ires a man of some 3sense to know how to1 lie well. 2Whatever disgrace we0 may have deserved, 2it is almost always 3in our power to re-e1stablish our charact2er. 3It is double pleasur0e to deceive the dec2eiver. 3If there were no fal0sehood in the world,2 there would be no 3doubt; if there were1 no doubt, there wou2ld be no inquiry; 3if no inquiry, no wi1sdom, no knowledge, 2no genius. 3Cunning is the natur0al and universal def2ense of the weak 3against the violence1 of the strong. 2Foxes are so cunning0Because they are not1 strong. 2Men, like musical in0struments, seem made2 to be played upon. 3The best liar is he 0who makes the smalle2st amount of lying 3go the longest way. 1A little inaccuracy 0sometimes saves tons2 of explanation. 3Lying is an indispen0sable part of making2 life tolerable. 3The heart of the hyp0ocrite is hid in his2 breast; 3he masketh his words1 in the semblance of2 truth, 3while the business o1f his life is only t2o deceive. 3For he who speaks un0truth withers like a2 tree to the roots. 3Hateful to me as are0 the gates of hell, 2Is he who, hiding on1e thing in his heart2, 3Utters another. 1If people become acc0ustomed to lying, th2ey will uncon- 3sciously commit ever1y possible wrong dee2d. Before they 3can act wickedly the1y must lie, and once2 they begin to 3lie they will act wi1ckedly with unconcer2n. 3For one who has been0 honored, dishonor i2s worse than death. 3Disgrace is immortal0, and living even wh2en one thinks 3it dead. 1Lying is a most disg0raceful vice; it fir2st despises God, 3and then fears men. 1To tell a falsehood 0is like the cut of a2 sabre; 3for though the wound1 may heal, the scar 2of it will remain. 3The gain of lying is0, not to be trusted 2by any, 3nor to be believed w1hen we speak the tru2th. 3Though those who are0 betrayed do feel th2e treason 3sharply, yet the tra1itor stands in worse2 case of woe. 3Where trust is great0est, there treason i2s in its most 3horrid shape. 1He who tells a lie i0s not sensible how g2reat a task he 3undertakes; for he m1ust invent twenty mo2re to maintain that 3one. 1Trickery and treache0ry are the practices2 of fools that have 3not wits enough to b1e honest. 2Deceivers are the mo0st dangerous members2 of society. They 3trifle with the best1 parts of our nature2, and violate the 3most sacred obligati1ons. 2Not the least misfor0tune in a prominent 2falsehood is the 3fact that tradition 1is apt to repeat it 2for truth. 3The first and worst 0of all frauds is to 2cheat oneself. 3The liar's punishmen0t is not in the leas2t that he is not 3believed, but that h1e cannot believe any2one else. 3So near is falsehood0 to truth that a wis2e man would do well 3not to trust himself1 on the narrow edge.2He who does not prev0ent a crime when he 2can, encourages it. 3Who is not sure of h0is memory should not2 attempt lying. 3We should do by our 0cunning as we do by 2our courage, 3always have it ready1 to defend ourselves2, 3never to offend othe1rs. 2Watchfulness is the 0only guard against c2unning. Be intent 3on his intentions. 1Many succeed in maki2ng others do their 3own affairs, and unl1ess you possess the 2key to their motives3you may at any momen1t be forced to take 2their chestnuts out 3of the fire to the d1amage of your own fi2ngers. 3Trust not in him tha0t seems a saint. 2How can we expect an0other to keep our se2cret if we cannot 3keep it ourselves. 1Distrust all those w0ho love you extremel2y upon a very slight3acquaintance and wit1hout any visible rea2son. 3I deny the lawfulnes0s of telling a lie t2o a sick man for 3fear of alarming him1; you have no busine2ss with consequences3you are to tell the 1truth. 2Do not talk about di0sgrace from a thing 2being known, 3when disgrace is, th1at the thing should 2exist. 3I have known a vast 0quantity of nonsense2 talked about bad 3men not looking you 1in the face. Don't 2trust that 3conventional idea. 1Dishonesty will star2e honesty out of 3countenance any day 1in the week, if ther2e is anything to be 3got by it. 1O fool, fool! the pa0ins which thou takes2t to hide what thou 3art, are far more th1an would make thee w2hat thou wouldst 3seem; and the childr1en of wisdom shall m2ock at thy cunning 3when, in the midst o1f security, thy disg2uise is stripped 3off, and the finger 1of derision shall po2int thee to scorn. 3And oftentimes, to w0in us to our harm, 2The instruments of d1arkness tell us trut2hs, 3Win us with honest t1rifles, to betray's 2In deepest consequen1ce. 2We trust our secrets0 to our friends, 2but they escape from1 us in love. 2Is there not some ch0osen curse, 2Some hidden thunder 1in the stores of hea2ven, 3Red with uncommon wr1ath, to blast the ma2n 3Who owes his greatne1ss to his country's 2ruin? 3It is the just decre0e of Heaven that a t2raitor never sees 3his danger till his 1ruin is at hand. 2Three may keep a sec0ret if two of them a2re dead. 3Some have learnt man0y Tricks of sly Evas2ion, 3Instead of Truth the1y use Equivocation, 2And eke it out with 1mental Reservation, 2Which is to good Men1 an Abomination. 2Round numbers are al0ways false. 2A great lie is like 0a great fish on dry 2land; it may fret 3and fling, and make 1a frightful bother, 2but it cannot hurt 3you. You have only 1to keep still and it2 will die of itself.3O, what a tangled we0b we weave 2when first we practi1se to deceive! 2Oh, colder than the 0wind that freezes 2 Founts, that but n1ow in sunshine play'2d, 3Is that congealing p1ang which seizes 2 The trusting bosom1, when betray'd. 2Mary, I believed the0e true, 2 And I was blest in1 thus believing; 2But now I mourn that1 ever I knew 2 A girl so fair and1 so deceiving. 2Falsehoods not only 0disagree with truths2, 3but usually quarrel 1among themselves. 2You can fool some of0 the people all of t2he time, 3and all of the peopl1e some of the time, 2but you cannot fool 1all of the people al2l of the time. 3A traitor is good fr0uit to hang from the2 boughs of the 3tree of liberty. 1Spies are of no use 0nowadays. Their pro2fession is over. 3The newspapers do th1eir work instead. 2We (Communist Party)0 must be ready to em2ploy trickery, 3deceit, law-breaking1, withholding and co2ncealing truth. 3We can and must writ1e in the language wh2ich sows among the 3masses hate, revulsi1on, scorn, and the l2ike, toward those 3who disagree with us1. 2Every man is his own0 chief enemy. 2Our enemies are our 0outward consciences.2As soon as there is 0life there is danger2. 3The space in a needl0e's eye is sufficien2t for two friends, 3but the whole world 1is scarcely big enou2gh to hold two 3enemies. 1Perils commonly ask 0to be paid on pleasu2res. 3Out of this nettle, 0danger, we pluck thi2s flower, safety. 3There is no person w0ho is not dangerous 2for some one. 3Be assured those wil0l be thy worst enemi2es, not to whom thou3 hast done evil, but1 who have done evil 2to thee. 3And those will be th1y best friends, not 2to whom thou 3 hast done good, but1 who have done good 2to thee. 3A malicious enemy is0 better than a clums2y friend. 3I destroy my enemy w0hen I make him my fr2iend. 3Two dangers constant0ly threaten the worl2d: 3order and disorder. 1Biggest profits mean0 gravest risks. 2The responses of hum0an beings vary great2ly under dangerous 3circumstances. The 1strong man advances 2boldly to meet them 3head on. The weak m1an grows agitated. 2But the superior man3stands up to fate, e1ndures resolutely in2 his inner certainty3of final success, an1d bides his time unt2il the onset of 3reassuring odds. 1Know the enemy and k0now yourself; 2 in a hundred battl1es you will never be2 in peril. 3When you are ignoran1t of the enemy but k2now yourself, 3 your chances of wi1nning or losing are 2equal. 3If ignorant both of 1your enemy and of yo2urself, 3 you are certain in1 every battle to be 2in peril. 3The wise man does no0t expose himself nee2dlessly to danger, 3since there are few 1things for which he 2cares sufficiently; 3but he is willing, i1n great crises to gi2ve even his life- 3knowing that under c1ertain conditions it2 is not worth while 3to live. 1There is no gatherin0g the rose without b2eing pricked by the 3thorns. 1Man is never watchfu0l enough against dan2gers that threaten 3him every hour. 1Constant exposure to0 dangers will breed 2contempt for them. 3The mere apprehensio0n of a coming evil h2as put many into a 3situation of the utm1ost danger. 2Method is more impor0tant than strength, 2 when you wish to c1ontrol your enemies.2By dropping golden b1eads near a snake, 2 a crow once manage1d 2To have a passer-by 1kill the snake 2 for the beads. 1It is the enemy whom0 we do not suspect 2who is the most dang1erous. 2There is no little e0nemy. 2A merely fallen ene0my may rise again, b2ut the reconciled 3one is truly vanquis1hed. 2If we could read the0 secret history of o2ur enemies we 3should find in each 1man's life sorrow an2d suffering enough 3to disarm all hostil1ity. 2You can discover wha0t your enemy fears m2ost 3by observing the mea1ns he uses to fright2en you. 3Men of sense often l0earn from their enem2ies. It is from 3their foes, not thei1r friends, that citi2es learn the lesson 3of building high wal1ls and ships of war;2 and this lesson 3saves their children1, their homes, and t2heir properties. 3Some men are more be0holden to their bitt2erest enemies 3than to friends who 1appear to be sweetne2ss itself. 3The former frequentl1y tell the truth, bu2t the latter never. 3Danger, the spur of 0all great minds. 2Many have had their 0greatness made for t2hem by their 3enemies. 1Our enemies come nea0rer the truth in the2 opinions they 3form of us than we d1o in our opinion of 2ourselves. 3Great perils have th0is beauty, that they2 bring to light 3the fraternity of st1rangers. 2Everything is sweete0ned by risk. 2All centuries are da0ngerous, it is the b2usiness of the 3future to be dangero1us. It must be admi2tted that there 3is a degree of insta1bility which is inco2nsistent with 3civilization. But, 1on the whole, the gr2eat ages have 3been the unstable ag1es. 2Behold the turtle. 0He makes progress on2ly when he sticks 3his neck out. 1The worst enemy is o0ne that fears the go2ds. 3Even if the son of h0is enemy speaks swee2tly, 3The wise man remains1 on guard. 2A poisonous leaf ret1ains its potency, 2And can cause injury1 at any time. 2If you have no enemi0es, it is a sign for2tune has forgot you.3Dangers bring fears,0 and fears more dang2ers bring. 3Whatever the number 0of a man's friends, 2there will be times 3in his life when he 1has one too few; but2 if he has only 3one enemy, he is luc1ky indeed if he has 2not one too many. 3We each have some do0minant defect, by wh2ich the enemy can 3grasp us. In some i1t is vanity, in othe2rs indolence, in 3most egotism. Let a1 cunning and evil sp2irit possess himself3of this, and you are1 lost. 2A person in danger s0hould not try to esc2ape at one stroke. 3He should first calm1ly hold his own, the2n be satisfied 3with small gains, wh1ich will come by cre2ative adaptations. 3If thine enemy be hu0ngry, give him bread2 to eat. 3The world is always 0burning, burning wit2h the fire of greed,3anger and ignorance;1 one should flee fro2m such dangers as 3soon as possible. 1Observe your enemies0, for they first fin2d out your faults. 3Let us carefully obs0erve those good qual2ities wherein our 3enemies excel us; an1d endeavor to excel 2them, by avoiding 3what is faulty, and 1imitating what is ex2cellent in them. 3If we must fall, we 0should boldly meet t2he danger. 3Whoever benefits his0 enemy 2With straightforward1 intention 2That man's enemies w1ill soon 2Fold their hands in 1devotion. 2In time of danger it0 is proper to be ala2rmed until danger be3near at hand; but wh1en we perceive that 2danger is near, we 3should oppose it as 1if we were not afrai2d. 3O wise man, wash you0r hands of that frie2nd who associates 3with your enemies. 1Wise men say nothing0 in dangerous times.2Let the fear of a da0nger be a spur to pr2event it; 3he that fears not, g1ives advantage to th2e danger. 3In fighting and in e0veryday life you sho2uld be determined 3though calm. Meet t1he situation without2 tenseness yet not 3recklessly, your spi1rit settled yet unbi2ased...An elevated 3spirit is weak and a1 low spirit is weak.2 Do not let the 3enemy see your spiri1t. 2Beware of meat twice0 boiled, 2and an old foe recon1ciled. 2It is better to meet0 danger than to wait2 for it. He that 3is on a lee shore, a1nd foresees a hurric2ane, stands out 3to sea and encounter1s a storm to avoid a2 shipwreck. 3Danger - if you meet0 it promptly and wit2hout flinching - 3you will reduce the 1danger by half. Nev2er run away from 3anything. Never! 1Man should observe t0he strictest self-re2straint and reserve 3in dangerous times. 1 In this way he incu2rs neither injury 3from antagonists wit1h designs on pre-emi2nence nor 3obligations to other1s. 2There's nothing like0 the sight of an old2 enemy down on his 3luck. 1It is better to do t0hine own duty, howev2er lacking in merit,3 than to do that of1 another, even thoug2h efficiently. 3It is better to die 1doing one's own duty2, 3 for to do the duty1 of another is fraug2ht with danger. 3You are dealing with0 a work full of dang2erous hazard, and 3you are venturing up1on fires overlaid wi2th treacherous ashes3Send danger from the0 east unto the west,2So honor cross it fr1om the north to sout2h. 3O'er the ice the rap0id skater flies, 2 With sport above a1nd death below, 2Where mischief lurks1 in gay disguise 2 Thus lightly touch1 and quickly go. 2During the first per0iod of a man's life 2the greatest danger 3is: not to take the1 risk. When once th2e risk has really 3been taken, then the1 greatest danger is 2to risk too much. 3The world is large w0hen its weary league2s two loving 3 hearts divide; 1But the world is sma1ll when your enemy i2s loose on the 3 other side. 1For dust thou art, a0nd unto dust shalt t2hou return. 3Even as a caterpilla0r, when coming to an2 end of a blade of 3grass, reaches out t1o another blade of g2rass and draws 3itself over to it, i1n the same way the S2oul, leaving the 3body and unwisdom be1hind, reaches out to2 another body and 3draws itself over to1 it. 2Then shalt dust retu0rn to the earth as i2t was: 3and the spirit shall1 return unto God who2 gave it. 3That last day does n0ot bring extinction 2to us, 3but change of place.1We begin to die as s0oon as we are born, 2and the end is linke1d to the beginning. 2Death is the golden 0key that opens the p2alace of eternity. 3Death is the veil wh0ich those who live c2all life; 3They sleep, and it i1s lifted. 2Death is the droppin0g of the flower that2 the fruit may 3swell. 1The Father is the Gi0ver of Life; but the2 Mother is the 3Giver of Death, beca1use her womb is the 2gate of ingress 3to matter, and throu1gh her life is ensou2led to form, 3and no form can be e1ither infinite or et2ernal. 3Death is implicit in1 birth. 2There are two ways o0f passing from this 2world - 3one in light and one1 in darkness. 2When one passes in l1ight, he does not co2me back; 3but when one passes 1in darkness, he retu2rns. 3Pale death, with imp0artial step, knocks 2at the hut of 3the poor and the tow1ers of kings. 2It is as natural to 0die as to be born; a2nd to a little 3infant, perhaps, the1 one is as painful a2s the other. 3The stroke of death 0is as a lover's pinc2h, 3Which hurts and is d1esired. 2And I still onward h0aste to my last nigh2t; 3Time's fatal wings d1o ever forward fly; 2So every day we live1, a day we die. 2One short sleep past0, we wake eternally,2And Death shall be n1o more; Death, thou 2shalt die. 3Men fear death, as i0f unquestionably the2 greatest evil, 3and yet no man knows1 that it may not be 2the greatest good. 3Is death the last st0ep? 2No, it is the final 1awakening. 2For I say, this is d0eath and the sole de2ath, 3When a man's loss co1mes to him from his 2gain, 3Darkness from light,1 from knowledge igno2rance, 3And lack of love fro1m love made manifest2. 3Living is death; dyi0ng is life. 2We are not what we a1ppear to be. 2On this side of the 1grave we are exiles,2 on that citizens; 3on this side orphans1, on that children; 2on this side captive1s, on that freemen..2. 3Life is the jailer, 0death the angel sent2 to draw the 3unwilling bolts and 1set us free. 2Life is a dream walk0ing 2Death is a going hom1e. 2Involvement in a for0m is the beginning o2f the death of 3life. It is a strai1ghtening and a limit2ing; a binding 3and a constricting. 1 Form checks life, t2hwarts it, and 3yet enables it to or1ganize. Seen from t2he point of view 3of free-moving force1, incarceration in a2 form is extinction.3Form disciplines for1ce with a merciless 2severity. 3Remember the men of 0old passed away, 2those of days to com1e will also pass awa2y: 3a mortal ripens like1 corn and like corn 2is born again. 3No evil is honorable0: but death is hono2rable; 3therefore death is n1ot evil. 2Few cross the river 0of time and are able2 to reach non-being.3Most of them run up 1and down only on thi2s side of the river.3But those who when t1hey know the law fol2low the path of the 3law, they shall reac1h the other shore an2d go beyond the 3realm of death. 1The life of the dead0 is placed in the me2mory of the living. 3Nobody dies prematur0ely who dies in mise2ry. 3Death is sometimes a0 punishment, sometim2es a gift; 3to many it has come 1as a favor. 2Strange - is it not?0 - that of the myria2ds who 3Before us passed the1 door of Darkness th2rough, 3Not one returns to t1ell us of the road 2Which to discover we1 must travel too. 2The fear of death is0 worse than death. 2The birds of the air0 die to sustain thee2; the beasts of the 3field die to nourish1 thee; the fishes of2 the sea die to 3feed thee. Our stom1achs are their commo2n sepulcher. Good 3God! with how many 1deaths are our poor 2lives patched up! 3how full of death is1 the life of momenta2ry man! 3Neither the sun nor 0death can be looked 2at with a steady eye3It is impossible tha0t anything so natura2l, so necessary, 3and so universal as 1death, should ever h2ave been designed by3Providence as an evi1l to mankind. 2Death, so called, is0 a thing which makes2 men weep, 3And yet a third of l1ife is passed in sle2ep. 3We sometimes congrat0ulate ourselves at t2he moment of waking 3from a troubled drea1m; it may be so the 2moment after death. 3We look at death thr0ough the cheap-glaze2d windows of the 3flesh, and believe h1im the monster which2 the flawed and 3cracked glass repres1ents him. 2Man has the possibil0ity of existence aft2er death. But 3possibility is one t1hing and the realiza2tion of the 3possibility is quite1 a different thing. 2A man's dying is mor0e the survivors' aff2air than his own. 3 This is thy pres0ent world, said the 2Flame to the Spark. 3Thou art myself, my 1image, and my shadow2. I have clothed 3myself in thee, and 1thou art my vehicle 2to the day, "Be 3with us," when thou 1shalt re-become myse2lf and others, 3thyself and me. 1Death may be the gre0atest of all human b2lessings. 3He whom the gods lov0e dies young, 2 while he is in hea1lth, 2has his senses and h1is judgments sound. 2Thou fool, what is s0leep but the image o2f death? 3Fate will give an et1ernal rest. 2This day, which thou0 fearest as thy last2, 3is the birthday of e1ternity. 2The gods conceal fro0m men the happiness 2of death, 3that they may endure1 life. 2Not by lamentations 0and mournful chants 2ought we to 3celebrate the funera1l of a good man, but2 by hymns, 3for in ceasing to be1 numbered with morta2ls he enters 3upon the heritage of1 a diviner life. 2Death is a release f0rom the impressions 2of the senses, 3and from desires tha1t make us their pupp2ets, 3and from the vagarie1s of the mind, 2and from the hard se1rvice of the flesh. 2As a well-spent day 0brings happy sleep, 2so a life well spent1 brings happy death.2Death, they say, acq0uits us of all oblig2ations. 3Death is the cure fo0r all diseases. 2We should weep for m0en at their birth, n2ot at their death. 3I look upon death to0 be as necessary to 2our constitution as 3sleep. We shall ris1e refreshed in the m2orning. 3Death is a commingli0ng of eternity with 2time; in the death 3of a good man, etern1ity is seen looking 2through time. 3That which is so uni0versal as death must2 be a benefit. 3The darkness of deat0h is like the evenin2g twilight; 3it makes all objects1 appear more lovely 2to the dying. 3Death gives us sleep0, eternal youth, and2 immortality. 3Death is the liberat0or of him whom freed2om cannot release, 3the physician of him1 whom medicine canno2t cure, 3and the comforter of1 him whom time canno2t console. 3How wonderful is dea0th! 2Death and his brothe1r sleep. 2But life is sweet, t0hough all that makes2 it sweet 3Lessen like sound of1 friends' departing 2feet; 3And Death is beautif1ul as feet of friend2Coming with welcome 1at our journey's end2. 3Nothing can happen m0ore beautiful than d2eath. 3There is no death! 0the stars go down 2 To rise upon some 1other shore, 2And bright in Heaven1's jeweled crown, 2 They shine for eve1r more. 2Death is delightful.0 Death is dawn, 2The waking from a we1ary night 2Of fevers unto truth1 and light. 2The essential part o0f our being can only2 survive if the 3transient part disso1lves. Death is a co2ndition of survival.3That which has been 1gained must be etern2alized, and can only3be eternalized by be1ing transmuted, by p2assing through death3into eternal life. 1This is the meaning 2of Resurrection. 3The path of immortal0ity is hard, and onl2y a few find it. 3The rest await the G1reat Day when the wh2eels of the universe3shall be stopped and1 the immortal sparks2 shall escape from 3the sheaths of subst1ance. Woe unto thos2e who wait, for 3they must return aga1in, unconscious and 2unknowing, to the 3seed-ground of stars1, and await a new be2ginning. 3O how small a portio0n of earth will hold2 us when we 3are dead, who ambiti1ously seek after the2 whole world 3while we are living.1Death alone disclose0s how insignificant 2are the puny bodies 1of men. 2It is not death, it 0is dying that alarms2 me. 3Ah, what a sign it i0s of evil life, 2Where death's approa1ch is seen so terrib2le! 3If some men died and0 others did not, 2death would indeed b1e a most mortifying 2evil. 3The Fear of Death of0ten proves Mortal, a2nd sets People on 3Methods to save thei1r Lives, which infal2libly destroy them. 3A dying man can do n0othing easy. 2To neglect, at any t0ime, preparation for2 death, is to sleep 3on our post at a sie1ge; to omit it in ol2d age, is to sleep 3at an attack. 1Death is the tyrant 0of the imagination. 2 His reign is in 3solitude and darknes1s, in tombs and pris2ons, over weak 3hearts and seething 1brains. He lives, w2ithout shape or 3sound, a phantasm, i1naccessible to sight2 or touch, - a 3ghastly and terrible1 apprehension. 2Whatever crazy sorro0w saith, 2No life that breathe1s with human breath 2Has ever truly longe1d for death. 2There is no such thi0ng as death. 2 In nature nothing 1dies. 2From each sad remnan1t of decay 2 Some forms of life1 arise. 2Labour not after ric0hes first, and think2 thou afterwards 3wilt enjoy them. He1 who neglecteth the 2present moment, 3throweth away all th1at he hath. As the 2arrow passeth 3through the heart, w1hile the warrior kne2w not that it was 3coming; so shall his1 life be taken away 2before he knoweth 3that he hath it. 1Trust not your own p0owers till the day o2f your death. 3But learn that to di0e is a debt we must 2all pay. 3Death is as sure for0 that which is born,2 as birth is for th1at which is dead. 2Therefore grieve not1 for what is inevita2ble. 3He who knows that th0is body is like frot2h, 3and has learnt that 1it is as unsubstanti2al as a mirage, 3will break the flowe1r-pointed arrow of i2llusion, 3and never see the ki1ng of death. 2It is uncertain in w0hat place death may 2await thee; 3therefore expect it 1in any place. 2Let death be daily b0efore your eyes, and2 you will never 3entertain any abject1 thought, nor too ea2gerly covet 3anything. 1Despise not death, b0ut welcome it, 2for Nature wills it 1like all else. 2At the moment of dea0th there will appear2 to you, swifter 3than lightning, the 1luminous splendour o2f the colourless 3light of Emptiness, 1and that will surrou2nd you on all sides.3Terrified, you will 1flee from the radian2ce...Try to submerge3yourself in that lig1ht, giving up all be2lief in a separate 3self, all attachment1 to your illusory eg2o. Recognize that 3the boundless Light 1of this true Reality2 is your own true 3self, and you shall 1be saved! 2Do not be frightened0 or bewildered by th2e luminous, 3brilliant, very shar1p and clear light of2 supreme wisdom... 3Be drawn to it...tak1e refuge in it...Do 2not take pleasure in3the soft light...Do 1not be attracted to 2it or yearn for it. 3It is an obstacle bl1ocking the path of l2iberation. 3If you don't know ho0w to die, don't worr2y; 3Nature will tell you1 what to do on the s2pot, fully and 3adequately. She wil1l do this job perfec2tly for you; 3don't bother your he1ad about it. 2Let no man fear to d0ie, we love to sleep2 all, 3And death is but the1 sounder sleep. 2If life must not be 0taken too seriously 2- 3then so neither must1 death. 2Life that breathes n0ow lies still and ye2t moves fast, rush- 3ing but firmly fixed1 in the midst of the2 resting places. 3The life of the dead1 one wanders as his 2nature wills. 3The immortal comes f1rom the same womb as2 the mortal. 3Your lost friends ar0e not dead, but gone2 before, 3 Advanced a stage 1or two upon that roa2d 3Which you must trave1l in the steps they 2trod. 3Before long, alas! 0this body will lie o2n the earth, 3despised, without un1derstanding, like a 2useless log. 3I have lived, and I 0have run the course 2which fortune allott1ed me; 2and now my shade sha1ll descend illustrio2us to the grave. 3Property is unstable0, and youth perishes2 in a moment. 3Life itself is held 1in the grinning fang2s of Death, 3Yet men delay to obt1ain release from the2 world. 3Alas, the conduct of1 mankind is surprisi2ng. 3Oh you who have been0 removed from God in2 his solitude 3by the abyss of time1, how can you expect2 to reach him 3without dying? 1I died a mineral, an0d became a plant. 2I died a plant and r1ose an animal. 2I died an animal and1 I was man. 2Why should I fear? 1When was I less by d2ying? 3Now I am about to ta0ke my last voyage, 2a great leap in the 1dark. 2This man is freed fr0om servile bands, 2 Of hope to rise, o1r fear to fall; 2Lord of himself, tho1ugh not of lands, 2 And leaving nothin1g, yet hath all. 2He was exhaled; his 0great Creator drew 2His spirit, as the s1un the morning dew. 2The prince who kept 0the world in awe, 2The judge whose dict1ate fix'd the law; 2The rich, the poor, 1the great, the small2, 3Are levelled; death 1confounds 'em all. 2As man, perhaps, the0 moment of his breat2h, 3Receives the lurking1 principle of death,2The young disease, t1hat must subdue at l2ength, 3Grows with his growt1h, and strengthens w2ith his strength. 3Would you extend you0r narrow span, 2And make the most of1 life you can; 2Would you, when medi1cines cannot save, 2Descend with ease in1to the grave; 2Calmly retire, like 1evening light, 2And cheerful bid the1 world goodnight? 2Then with no fiery t0hrobbing pain, 2 No cold gradations1 of decay, 2Death broke at once 1the vital chain, 2 And freed his soul1 the nearest way. 2All flesh is grass, 0and all its glory fa2des 3Like the fair flower1 dishevelled in the 2wind; 3Riches have wings, a1nd grandeur is a dre2am; 3The man we celebrate1 must find a tomb, 2And we that worship 1him, ignoble graves.2Like the dew on the 0mountain, 2 Like the foam on t1he river, 2Like the bubble on t1he fountain, 2 Thou art gone, and1 for ever! 2First our pleasures 0die - and then 2Our hopes, and then 1our fears - and when2These are dead, the 1debt is due, 2Dust claims dust - a1nd we die too. 2The sweet calm sunsh0ine of October, now 2 Warms the low spot1; upon its grassy mo2uld 3The purple oak-leaf 1falls; the birchen b2ough 3 Drops its bright s1poil like arrow-head2s of gold. 3To every man upon th0is earth 2 Death cometh soon 1or late, 2And how can man die 1better 2 Than facing fearfu1l odds, 2For the ashes of his1 fathers 2 And the temples of1 his gods? 2When a great man die0s, 2for years the light 1he leaves behind him2, 3lies on the paths of1 men. 2Because I could not 0stop for Death, 2He kindly stopped fo1r me; 2The carriage held bu1t just ourselves 2And Immortality. 1Dying is a wild nigh0t and a new road. 2And I hear from the 0outgoing ship in the2 bay 3 The song of the s1ailors in glee: 2So I think of the lu1minous footprints th2at bore 3 The comfort o'er 1dark Galilee, 2And wait for the sig1nal to go to the sho2re, 3 To the ship that 1is waiting for me. 2Out of the chill and0 the shadow, 2 Into the thrill an1d the shine; 2Out of the dearth an1d the famine, 2 Into the fulness d1ivine. 2Age carries all thin0gs away, even the mi2nd. 3Old age is an incura0ble disease. 2All human things are0 subject to decay. 2Old age is an island0 surrounded by death2. 3Old things are alway0s in good repute, 2present things in di1sfavor. 2As we grow old we be0come both more fooli2sh and more wise. 3We hope to grow old,0 yet we fear old age2; that is, 3we are willing to li1ve, and afraid to di2e. 3Every man desires to0 live long; but no m2an would be old. 3As we advance in lif0e the circle of our 2pains enlarges, 3while that of our pl1easures contracts. 2Heaven gives our day0s of failing strengt2h 3 Indemnifying fleet1ness 2And those of youth a1 seeming length 2 Proportioned to th1eir sweetness. 2Forty is the old age0 of youth; fifty the2 youth of old age. 3Youth is fair, a gra0ceful stag, 2Leaping, playing in 1a park 2Age is gray, a tooth1less hag, 2Stumbling in the dar1k. 2The young feel tired0 at the end of an ac2tion; 3The old at the begin1ning. 2Old people have fewe0r diseases than the 2young, 3but their diseases n1ever leave them. 2No one is so old as 0to think he cannot l2ive one more year. 3Old age is by nature0 rather talkative. 2Nature hath appointe0d twilight as a brid2ge to pass us out of3day into night. 1Few persons know how0 to be old. 2Man can have only a 0certain number of te2eth, hair and ideas;3there comes a time w1hen he necessarily l2oses his teeth, 3hair and ideas. 1Age makes us not chi0ldish, as some say; 2it finds us still tr1ue children. 2Winter, which strips0 the leaves from aro2und us, 3makes us see the dis1tant regions they fo2rmerly concealed; 3so does old age rob 1us of our enjoyments2, 3only to enlarge the 1prospect of eternity2 before us. 3Autumn wins you best0 by this, its mute 2Appeal to sympathy f1or its decay. 2I've never known a p0erson to live to be 2one hundred and be 3remarkable for anyth1ing else. 2To know how to grow 0old is the master wo2rk of wisdom, 3and one of the most 1difficult chapters 2in the great art of 1living. 2A graceful and honor0able old age is the 2childhood of 3immortality. 1Old age has a great 0sense of calm and fr2eedom. When the 3passions have relaxe1d their hold and hav2e escaped, not 3from one master, but1 from many. 2It is not by muscle,0 speed, or physical 2dexterity that great3things are achieved,1 but by reflection, 2force of character, 3and judgment; in the1se qualities old age2 is usually not 3only not poorer, but1 is even richer. 2Old age, especially 0an honoured old age,2 has so great 3authority, that this1 is of more value th2an all the pleasures3of youth. 1As for old age, embr0ace and love it. It2 abounds with 3pleasure if you know1 how to use it. The 2gradually declining 3years are among the 1sweetest in a man's 2life, and I maintain3that, even when they1 have reached the ex2treme limit, they 3have their pleasure 1still. 2Even in decline, a v0irtuous man 2Increases the beauty1 of his behavior. 2A burning stick, tho1ugh turned to the gr2ound, 3Has its flame drawn 1upwards. 2Old wood best to bur0n, old wine to drink2, 3old friends to trust1, and old authors to2 read. 3No Spring nor Summer0 Beauty hath such gr2ace 3As I have seen in on1e Autumnal face. 2The evening of a wel0l-spent life brings 2its lamps with it. 3Men, like peaches an0d pears, grow sweet 2a little while 3before they begin to1 decay. 2Age, like distance l0ends a double charm.2Grow old along with 0me! 2The best is yet to b1e, 2The last of life, fo1r which the first wa2s made. 3For age is opportuni0ty no less 2Than youth itself, t1hough in another dre2ss, 3And as the evening t1wilight fades away 2The sky is filled wi1th stars, invisible 2by day. 3Age is not all decay0; it is the ripening2, the swelling, 3of the fresh life wi1thin, that withers a2nd bursts the husk. 3Who soweth good seed0 shall surely reap; 2The year grows rich 1as it groweth old, 2And life's latest sa1nds are its sands of2 gold! 3How beautifully leav0es grow old. 2How full of light an1d colour are their l2ast days. 3The man reaches his 0declining years and 2recalls the 3transitoriness of li1fe. Instead of enjo2ying the 3ordinary pleasures w1hile they last, he g2roans in 3melancholy. 1What else is an old 0man but voice and sh2adow? 3Old age is, so to sp0eak, the sanctuary o2f ills: 3they all take refuge1 in it. 2Nothing is more dish0onorable than an old2 man, heavy with 3years, who has no ot1her evidence of his 2having lived long 3except his age. 1Whoever saw old age 0that did not applaud2 the past and 3condemn the present?1Men of age object to0o much, consult too 2long, 3adventure too little1, repent too soon, 2and seldom drive bus1iness home to the fu2ll period, 3but content themselv1es with a mediocrity2 of success. 3And so from hour to 0hour we ripe and rip2e, 3And then from hour t1o hour we rot and ro2t; 3And thereby hangs a 1tale. 2Old age is a tyrant,0 which forbids the p2leasure of youth 3on pain of death. 1No skill or art is n0eeded to grow old; 2the trick is to endu1re it. 2Thus pleasures fade 0away; 2Youth, talents, beau1ty, thus decay, 2And leave us dark, f1orlorn, and gray. 2What is the worst of0 woes that wait on a2ge? 3 What stamps the wr1inkle deeper on the 2brow? 3To view each loved o1ne blotted from life2's page, 3 And be alone on ea1rth as I am now. 2Nature abhors the ol0d, and old age seems2 the only disease; 3all others run into 1this one. 2Few envy the conside0ration enjoyed by th2e eldest inhabitant.3What makes old age h0ard to bear is not t2he failing of one's 3faculties, mental an1d physical, but the 2burden of one's 3memories. 1Those who search bey0ond the natural limi2ts will retain good 3hearing and clear vi1sion, their bodies w2ill remain light and3strong, and although1 they grow old in ye2ars they will remain3able-bodied and flou1rishing; and those w2ho are able-bodied 3can govern to great 1advantage. 2Great effort is requ0ired to arrest decay2 and restore vigor. 3One must exercise pr1oper deliberation, p2lan carefully before3making a move, and b1e alert in guarding 2against relapse 3following a renaissa1nce. 2It is always in seas0on for old men to le2arn. 3You must become an o0ld man in good time 2if you wish to be an1 old man long. 2Discern of the comin0g on of years, and t2hink not to do the 3same things still; f1or age will not be d2efied. 3No wise man ever wis0hed to be younger. 2To be happy, we must0 be true to nature a2nd carry our age 3along with us. 1If wrinkles must be 0written upon your br2ows, let them not be3written upon the hea1rt. The spirit shou2ld not grow old. 3All objects of this 0world are perishable2. This body is 3subject to decay and1 death. Remembrance2 of this will wean 3your mind from the s1ensual pleasures and2 turn it inwards 3in awakening a sense1 of reality in the U2nseen and the 3Invisible. 1A green old age, unc0onscious of decay 2That proves the hero1 born in better days2. 3The mind of age is l0ike a lamp 2 Whose oil is runni1ng thin; 2One moment it is shi1ning bright, 2 Then darkness clos1es in. 2Have you not a moist0 eye, a dry hand, a 2yellow cheek, 3a white beard, a dec1reasing leg, an incr2easing belly? 3Is not your voice br1oken, your wind shor2t, your chin double,3your wit single, and1 every part about yo2u blasted with 3antiquity? And will1 you yet call yourse2lf young? 3He that loves a rosy0 cheek, 2 Or a coral lip adm1ires, 2Or from star-like ey1es doth seek 2 Fuel to maintain h1is fires; 2As old Time makes th1ese decay, 2 So his flames must1 waste away. 2The sun, when he fro0m noon declines, 2and with abated heat1 less fiercely shine2s; 3seems to grow milder1 as he goes away. 2An age that melts wi0th unperceiv'd decay2, 3And glides in modest1 innocence away. 2Thus fares it still 0in our decay, 2 And yet the wiser 1mind 2Mourns less for what1 age takes away 2 Than what it leave1s behind. 2All that's bright mu0st fade, 2 The brightest stil1l the fleetest; 2All that's sweet was1 made 2 But to be lost whe1n sweetest. 2Every season hath it0s pleasures; 2 Spring may boast h1er flowery prime, 2Yet the vineyard's r1uby treasures 2 Brighten Autumn's 1sob'rer time. 2Years steal fire fro0m the mind, as vigor2 from the limb; 3And life's enchanted1 cup but sparkles ne2ar the brim. 3The first forty year0s of life give us th2e text; 3the next thirty supp1ly the commentary on2 it. 3The melancholy days 0have come, the sadde2st of the year, 3Of wailing winds, an1d naked woods, and m2eadows brown 3 and sear. 3Fires that shook me 0once, but now to sil2ent ashes 3 fall'n away, 1Cold upon the dead v1olcano sleeps the gl2eam of 3 dying day. 1How far the gulf-str0eam of our youth may2 flow 3Into the arctic regi1ons of our lives, 2Where little else th1an life itself survi2ves. 3My experience is tha0t as soon as people 2are old enough to 3know better, they do1n't know anything at2 all. 3Twilight, a timid fa0wn, went glimmering 2by, 3And Night, the dark-1blue hunter, followe2d fast. 3Senescence begins 0And middle age ends,1The day your descend1ents, 2Outnumber your frien1ds. 2Doubt is the father 0of invention. 2Doubt is the vestibu0le through which all2 must pass before 3they can enter into 1the temple of wisdom2. 3Despair is the concl0usion of fools. 2Who never doubted, n0ever half believed. 2Where doubt is, ther1e truth is - it is h2er shadow. 3Doubt is the opposit0e of belief. 2Life is doubt, and f0aith without doubt i2s nothing but death.3Doubt is the key to 0knowledge. 2True wisdom is less 0presuming than folly2. 3The wise man doubtet1h often, and changet2h his mind; 3the fool is obstinat1e, and doubteth not;2he knoweth all thing1s but his own ignora2nce. 3It is as hard for th0e good to suspect ev2il 3as it is for the bad1 to suspect good. 2In contemplation, if0 a man begins with c2ertainties 3 he shall end in do1ubts; 2but if he be content1 to begin with doubt2s, 3 he shall end in ce1rtainties. 2Despair is the damp 0of hell, 2as joy is the sereni1ty of heaven. 2Industry pays debts,0 despair increases t2hem. 3The natural cause of0 the human mind is c2ertainly from 3credulity to sceptic1ism. 2Can that which is th0e greatest virtue in2 philosophy, doubt, 3be in religion what 1the priests term it,2 the greatest of 3sins? 1Great doubts 0 deep wisdom... 1Small doubts 1 little wisdom. 1Suspicion amongst th0oughts are like bats2 amongst birds, 3they never fly by tw1ilight. 2He that knows nothin0g doubts nothing. 2Suspicion follows cl0ose on mistrust. 2We know accurately o0nly when we know lit2tle, 3with knowledge doubt1 increases. 2Skepticism means not0 intellectual doubt 2alone, 3but moral doubt. 1Doubt comes in at th0e window 2when inquiry is deni1ed at the door. 2There is no rule mor0e invariable than th2at we are paid 3for our suspicions b1y finding what we su2spect. 3There is one safegua0rd known generally t2o the wise, 3which is an advantag1e and security to al2l, but especially 3to democracies as ag1ainst despots - susp2icion. 3Modest doubt is call0ed the beacon of the2 wise. 3If you would be a re0al seeker after trut2h, it is necessary 3that at least once i1n your life you doub2t, as far as 3possible, all things1. 2Doubt is an incentiv0e to truth, 2and patient inquiry 1leadeth the way. 2There lives more fai0th in honest doubt, 2Believe me, than in 1half the creeds. 2To have doubted one'0s own first principl2es is the mark of a 3civilized man. 1Doubt, indulged and 0cherished, is in dan2ger of becoming 3denial; but if hones1t, and bent on thoro2ugh investigation, 3it may soon lead to 1full establishment o2f the truth. 3Doubt, the essential0 preliminary of all 2improvement and 3discovery, must acco1mpany the stages of 2man's onward 3progress. The facul1ty of doubting and q2uestioning, without 3which those of compa1rison and judgment w2ould be useless, is 3itself a divine prer1ogative of the reaso2n. 3An honest man can ne0ver surrender an hon2est doubt. 3Men become civilized0, not in proportion 2to their willingness3to believe, but in p1roportion to their r2eadiness to doubt. 3There is nothing mor0e dreadful than the 2habit of doubt. 3Doubt separates peop1le. It is a poison 2that disintegrates 3friendships and brea1ks up pleasant relat2ions. It is a 3thorn that irritates1 and hurts; it is a 2sword that kills. 3Neither in this worl0d nor elsewhere is t2here any happiness 3in store for him who1 always doubts. 2There is no greater 0folly in the world t2han for a man to 3despair. 1Our doubts are trait0ors, and make us los2e the good we oft 3might win by fearing1 to attempt. 2To doubt is worse th0an to have lost; And2 to despair 3is but to antedate t1hose miseries that m2ust fall on us. 3Always to think the 0worst, I have ever f2ound to be the 3mark of a mean spiri1t and a base soul. 2Suspicion is no less0 an enemy to virtue 2than to happiness. 3Despair is a mental 0state which exaggera2tes not only our 3misery but also our 1weakness. 2Suspicion is a heavy0 armor, 2and with its own wei1ght impedes more tha2n protects. 3The fearful Unbelief0 is unbelief in your2self. 3A person who doubts 0himself is like a ma2n who would enlist 3in the ranks of his 1enemies and bear arm2s agains himself. 3He makes his failure1 certain by himself 2being the first 3person to be convinc1ed of it. 2There is no sadder s0ight than a young pe2ssimist. 3Pessimism is the one0 ism which kills the2 soul. 3When you doubt, abst0ain. 2Never despair, but i0f you do, work on in2 despair. 3There is nothing mak0es a man suspect muc2h, more than to know3little, and therefor1e men should remedy 2suspicion by 3procuring to know mo1re, and not keep the2ir suspicions in 3smother. 1A certain amount of 0distrust is wholesom2e, but not so 3much of others as of1 ourselves; neither 2vanity nor 3conceit can exist in1 the same atmosphere2 with it. 3Doubt, of whatever k0ind, can be ended by2 Action alone. 3Doubt whom you will,0 but never yourself.2The important thing 0is not to stop quest2ioning. 3Suspicions that the 0mind, of itself, gat2hers, are but 3buzzes; but suspicio1ns that are artifici2ally nourished 3and put into men's h1eads by the tales an2d whisperings 3of others, have stin1gs. 2Suspicion may be no 0fault, but showing i2t may be a great one3I'll trust him no fu0rther than I can fli2ng him. 3There was a castle c0alled Doubting Castl2e, 3the owner whereof wa1s Giant Despair. 2If the Sun and Moon 0should doubt 2They'd immediately G1o out. 2There is no despair 0so absolute as that 2which comes with the3first moments of our1 first great sorrow,2 when we have not 3yet known what it is1 to have suffered an2d be healed, to have3despaired and have r1ecovered hope. 2A pessimist is a man0 who thinks everybod2y as nasty as 3himself, and hates t1hem for it. 2Pessimist: One who,0 when he has the cho2ice of two evils, 3chooses both. 1Ambition's like a ci0rcle on the water, 2Which never ceases t1o enlarge itself, 2'Till by broad sprea1ding it disperses to2 nought. 3Earnestness is enthu0siasm tempered by re2ason. 3The sense of this wo0rd among the Greeks 2affords the noblest 3definition of it: e1nthusiasm signifies 2God in us. 3Initiative is doing 0the right thing with2out being told. 3Enthusiasm is the mo0ther of effort... 2Enthusiasm...the sus0taining power of all2 great action. 3Though ambition in i0tself is a vice, 2yet it is often the 1parent of virtues. 2One often passes fro0m love to ambition, 2but one rarely retur1ns from ambition to 2love. 3The ambitious deceiv0e themselves when th2ey propose an end 3to their ambition; f1or that end, when at2tained, becomes a 3means. 1Zeal is fit for wise0 men, but flourishes2 chiefly among fools3I prefer the errors 0of enthusiasm to the2 indifference of 3wisdom. 1Ambition is so power0ful a passion in the2 human breast 3that however high we1 reach we are never 2satisfied. 3The very substance o0f the ambitious is m2erely the shadow 3of a dream. 1Like dogs in a wheel0, birds in a cage, o2r squirrels in a 3chain, ambitious men1 still climb and cli2mb, with great 3labor, and incessant1 anxiety, but never 2reach the top. 3Ambition is like lov0e, impatient both of2 delays and rivals. 3Ambition makes the s0ame mistake concerni2ng power 3that avarice makes c1oncerning wealth. 2She begins by accumu1lating power as a me2ans to happiness, 3and she finishes by 1continuing to accumu2late it as an end. 3Every production of 0genius must be the p2roduction of 3enthusiasm. 1Ambition is not what0 man does... 2but what man would d1o. 2Experience shows tha0t success is due les2s to ability 3than to zeal. The w1inner is he who give2s himself to 3his work body and so1ul. 2Perpetual inspiratio0n is as necessary to2 the life of good- 3ness, holiness and h1appiness as perpetua2l respiration is 3necessary to animal 1life. 2He who possesses the0 source of Enthusias2m 3Will achieve great t1hings. 2Doubt not. You will1 gather friends arou2nd you 3As a hair clasp gath1ers the hair. 2To be ambitious of t0rue honor, of the tr2ue glory and 3perfection of our na1tures, is the very p2rinciple and 3incentive of virtue.1Ambition and love ar0e the wings to great2 deeds. 3All noble enthusiasm0s pass through a fev2erish stage, 3and grow wiser and m1ore serene. 2Every great and comm0anding moment in the2 annals of the world3is the triumph of so1me enthusiasm. 2Nothing is so contag0ious as enthusiasm; 2it moves stones, it 3charms brutes. Enth1usiasm is the genius2 of sincerity and 3truth accomplishes n1o victories without 2it. 3It's faith in someth0ing and enthusiasm f2or something that 3makes life worth liv1ing. 2Ambition is the germ0 from which all grow2th of nobleness 3proceeds. 1Enthusiasm is the in0spiration of everyth2ing great. 3Without it no man is1 to be feared, and w2ith it none 3despised. 1Fires can't be made 0with dead embers, no2r can enthusiasm be 3stirred by spiritles1s men. Enthusiasm i2n our daily work 3lightens effort and 1turns even labor int2o pleasant tasks. 3The ambitious will a0lways be first in th2e crowd; he presseth3forward, he looketh 1not behind him. Mor2e anguish is it to 3his mind to see one 1before him, than joy2 to leave thousands 3at a distance. 1Ambition destroys it0s possessor. 2It is the constant f0ault and inseparable2 evil quality of 3ambition that it nev1er looks behind it. 2Zeal without knowled0ge is the sister of 2folly. 3Ambition, a proud co0vetousness, or a dry2 thirst of honour, 3a great torture of t1he mind, composed of2 envy, pride, and 3covetousness, a gall1ant madness, one def2ines it a pleasant 3poison. 1A slave has but one 0master; the ambitiou2s man has as many 3masters as there are1 persons whose aid m2ay contribute to the3advancement of his f1ortune. 2Ambition - A lust th0at is never quenched2, 3grows more inflamed 1and madder by enjoym2ent. 3Ambition is a vice w0hich often puts men 2upon doing the 3meanest offices; so 1climbing is performe2d in the same 3posture with creepin1g. 2There is no greater 0sign of a general de2cay of virtue in a 3nation, than a want 1of zeal in its inhab2itants for the 3good of their countr1y. 2There is no zeal bli0nder than that which2 is inspired with a 3love of justice agai1nst offenders. 2Ambition breaks the 0ties of blood, 2and forgets the obli1gations of gratitude2. 3Ambition has but one0 reward for all: 2A little power, a li1ttle transient fame;2A grave to rest in, 1and a fading name! 2Ambition: An overma0stering desire to be2 vilified by 3enemies while living1 and made ridiculous2 by friends when 3dead. 1Through zeal knowled0ge is gotten, throug2h lack of zeal 3knowledge is lost; l1et a man who knows t2his double path of 3gain and loss thus p1lace himself that kn2owledge may grow. 3If you wish to reach0 the highest, begin 2at the lowest. 3Fling away ambition;0 by that sin fell t2he angels: 3how can man then, th1e image of his Maker2, hope to win by it?3Be always displeased0 at what thou art, 2if thou desire to at1tain to what thou ar2t not; 3for where thou hast 1pleased thyself, the2re thou abidest. 3Our ambition should 0be to rule ourselves2, the true kingdom 3for each one of us; 1and true progress is2 to know more, and 3be more, and to do m1ore. 2Too low they build w0ho build beneath the2 stars. 3To be happy at home 0is the ultimate resu2lt of all 3ambition, the end to1 which every enterpr2ise and labor 3tends, and of which 1every desire prompts2 the prosecution. 3Ambition is an idol,0 on whose wings 2Great minds are carr1ied only to extreme;2To be sublimely grea1t or to be nothing. 2Enthusiasm is the le0aping lightning, not2 to be measured by 3the horse-power of t1he understanding. 2Zealots have an idol0, to which they cons2ecrate themselves 3high-priests, and de1em it holy work to o2ffer sacrifices 3of whatever is most 1precious. 2Evil is simply mispl0aced force. It can 2be misplaced in 3time, like the viole1nce that is acceptab2le in war is 3unacceptable in peac1e. It can be mispla2ced in space, like 3a burning coal on th1e rug rather than th2e fireplace. Or 3it can be misplaced 1in proportion, like 2an excess of love 3can make us overly s1entimental, or a lac2k of love can make 3us cruel and destruc1tive. It is in thin2gs such as these 3that evil lies, not 1in a personal Devil 2who acts as an 3Adversary. 1All cruelty springs 0from weakness. 2Sin is essentially a0 departure from God.2Evil has no substanc0e of its own, but is2 only the defect, 3excess, perversion, 1or corruption of tha2t which has 3substance. 1What is evil? - What0ever springs from we2akness. 3The only good is kno0wledge and the only 2evil is ignorance. 3They who are ashamed0 of what they ought 2not to be, 3 and are not ashame1d of what they ought2 to be, 3such men, embracing 1false doctrines, ent2er the evil path. 3They who fear when t1hey ought not to fea2r, 3 and fear not when 1they ought to fear, 2such men, embracing 1false doctrines, ent2er the evil path. 3Bad men hate sin thr0ough fear of punishm2ent; 3good men hate sin th1rough their love of 2virtue. 3To overcome evil wit0h good is good, 2to resist evil by ev1il is evil. 2The evil man is like0 a pot of clay, 2easily breaking, but1 reunited with diffi2culty; 3whilst a good man is1 like a jar of gold,2hard to break and qu1ickly to be joined a2gain. 3The greatest evils, 0are from within us; 2and from ourselves 3also we must look fo1r the greatest good.2Vice stings us even 0in our pleasures, 2but virtue consoles 1us even in our pains2. 3The cruelty of the w0eak is more dreadful2 than that of the 3strong. 1Evil is a form of go0od, of which the res2ults are not 3immediately manifest1. 2The first lesson of 0history, is, that ev2il is good. 3Preventives of evil 0are far better than 2remedies; 3cheaper and easier o1f application, and s2urer in result. 3Evil and good are Go0d's right hand and l2eft. 3He who does evil tha0t good may come, pay2s a toll to the 3devil to let him int1o heaven. 2Sin may open bright 0as the morning, 2but it will end dark1 as night. 2Evil exists to glori0fy the good. Evil i2s negative good. 3It is a relative ter1m. Evil can be tran2smuted into good. 3What is evil to one 1at one time, becomes2 good at another 3time to somebody els1e. 2To see and listen to0 the wicked is alrea2dy the beginning 3of wickedness. 1Evil events from evi0l causes spring. 2There is wickedness 0in the intention of 2wickedness, 3even though it be no1t perpetrated in the2 art. 3There are a thousand0 forms of evil; ther2e will be a 3thousand remedies. 1The way to wickednes0s is always through 2wickedness. 3No one ever reached 0the worst of a vice 2at one leap. 3Through no amount of0 effort can a natura2lly wicked man 3Be turned into an ho1nest one. 2However long you boi1l water, 2It is impossible to 1make it burn like fi2re. 3He that falls into s0in is a man; 2that grieves at it m1ay be a saint; 2that boasteth of it 1is a devil. 2Sin first is pleasin0g, then it grows eas2y, then delightful, 3then frequent, then 1habitual, then confi2rmed; then the man 3is impenitent, then 1he is obstinate, the2n he is resolved 3never to repent, and1 then he is ruined. 2No man is clever eno0ugh to know all the 2evil he does. 3Wickedness may prosp0er for awhile, but i2n the long run, 3he that sets all the1 knaves at work will2 pay them. 3Most of the evils of0 life arise from man2's being unable to 3sit still in a room.1The dread of evil is0 a much more forcibl2e principle of human3actions than the pro1spect of good. 2What maintains one v0ice would bring up t2wo children. 3The lives of the bes0t of us are spent in2 choosing between 3evils. 1Sin puts on that whi0ch tempteth to destr2uction. 3It has been said tha1t sin is like the be2e, 3with honey in its mo1uth, but a sting in 2its tail. 3This is the course o0f every evil deed, t2hat, propagating 3still it brings fort1h evil. 2If evil is inevitabl0e, how are the wicke2d accountable? 3Nay, why do we call 1men wicked at all? 2Evil is inevitable, 1but is also remediab2le. 3Moral Evil is Falseh0ood in actions; 2 as Falsehood is Cr1ime in words. 2Injustice is the ess1ence of Falsehood; 2 and every false wo1rd is an injustice. 2Injustice is the dea1th of the Moral Bein2g, 3 as Falsehood is th1e poison of the Inte2lligence. 3There are a thousand0 hacking at the bran2ches of evil 3to one who is striki1ng at the root. 2The belief in a supe0rnatural source of e2vil is not 3necessary; men alone1 are quite capable o2f every wickedness. 3One may say that evi0l does not exist for2 subjective man at 3all, that there exis1t only different con2ceptions of good. 3Nobody ever does any1thing deliberately i2n the interests of 3evil, for the sake o1f evil. Everybody a2cts in the interests3of good, as he under1stands it. But ever2ybody understands 3it in a different wa1y. Consequently men2 drown, slay, and 3kill one another in 1the interests of goo2d. 3Evil is unspectacula0r and always human 2And shares our bed a1nd eats at our own t2able. 3Sin is hoping for an0other life and...elu2ding the implacable 3grandeur of this lif1e. 2Mankind fears an evi0l man 2But heaven does not.1The best known evil 0is the most tolerabl2e. 3The sun shines even 0on the wicked. 2Much that we call ev0il is really good in2 disguises; 3and we should not qu1arrel rashly with ad2versities not yet 3understood, nor over1look the mercies oft2en bound up in them.3The vices enter into0 the composition of 2the virtues, 3as poisons into that1 of medicines. 2Prudence collects, a1rranges, and uses th2em 3beneficially against1 the ills of life. 2We sometimes learn m0ore from the sight o2f evil than from 3an example of good; 1and it is well to ac2custom ourselves 3to profit by the evi1l which is so common2, while that which 3is good is so rare. 1There is this good i0n real evils, - they2 deliver us, 3while they last, fro1m the petty despotis2m of all 3that were imaginary.1The world loves a sp0ice of wickedness. 2It is some compensat0ion for great evils 2that they enforce 3great lessons. 1The fool who does ev0il to a man who is g2ood, to a man who 3is pure and free fro1m sin, the evil retu2rns to him like the 3dust thrown against 1the wind. 2Bad conduct soils th0e finest ornament mo2re than filth. 3What has this unfeel0ing age of ours left2 untried, 3what wickedness has 1it shunned? 2Cruelty is fed, not 0weakened by tears. 2Vice is contagious, 0and there is no trus2ting the sound and 3the sick together. 1A few vices are suff0icient to darken man2y virtues. 3Who though he has be0en born a man 2 yet gives himself 1to evil ways, 2More foolish is he t1han the fool 2 who fills with vom1it, urine, dung 2Golden vessels jewel1-adorned - 2 harder man's birth1 to gain than these.2Men never do evil so0 completely and chee2rfully as when 3they do it from reli1gious conviction. 2The happiness of the0 wicked passes away 2like a torrent. 3If you do what you s0hould not, 2you must bear what y1ou would not. 2Physical evils destr0oy themselves, or th2ey destroy us. 3The only thing neces0sary for the triumph2 of evil 3is for good men to d1o nothing. 2Men scanning the sur0face count the wicke2d happy; they see 3not the frightful dr1eams that crowd a ba2d man's pillow. 3It is almost impossi0ble systematically t2o constitute a 3natural moral law. 1Nature has no princi2ples. She furnishes3us with no reason to1 believe that human 2life is to be 3respected. Nature, 1in her indifference,2 makes no 3distinction between 1good and evil. 2If a man possesses a0 repentant spirit hi2s sins will 3disappear, but if he1 has an unrepentant 2spirit his 3sins will continue a1nd condemn him for t2heir sake forever. 3Keep far way from an0 evil neighbor, do n2ot associate with 3the wicked, and do n1ot shrug off all tho2ught of calamity. 3The gates of hell ar0e three: lust, wrat2h and avarice. 3They destroy the Sel1f. Avoid them. 2Let no man think lig0htly of evil, saying2 in his heart, 3it will not come to 1stay with me. Even 2by the falling of 3water-drops a water-1pot is filled; the f2ool becomes full 3of evil, even if he 1gather it little by 2little. 3Every evil in the bu0d is easily crushed:2as it grows older, i1t becomes stronger. 2If thou wishest to g0et rid of thy evil p2ropensities, 3thou must keep far f1rom evil companions.2Be not overcome of e0vil, but overcome ev2il with good. 3O ye men! Eat of th0e produce of the ear2th things that are 3lawful and pure, and1 follow not the foot2steps of the 3evil-one; surely, he1 is an enemy to you 2clear. 3Association with cor0rupt people is a pai2n, 3the cure of which is1 separating yourself2 from them. 3When better choices 0are not to be had, 2We needs must take t1he seeming best of b2ad. 3Each year, one vicio0us habit rooted in t2ime 3ought to make the wo1rst man good. 2Let no man be sorry 0he has done good, be2cause others have 3done evil! If a man1 has acted right, he2 has done well, 3though alone; if wro1ng, the sanction of 2all mankind will 3not justify him. 1The doing evil to av0oid an evil cannot b2e good. 3For every evil under0 the sun, 2There is a remedy, o1r there is none; 2If there be one, try1 and find it, 2If there is none, ne1ver mind it. 2Between two evils, c0hoose neither; betwe2en two goods, 3choose both. 1The true rule in det0ermining to embrace 2or reject anything 3is not whether it ha1ve any evil in it, b2ut whether it have 3more of evil than of1 good. There are fe2w things wholly evil3or wholly good. 1Strive with thy thou0ghts unclean before 2they overpower thee.3Use them as they wil1l thee, for if thou 2sparest them and 3they take root and g1row, know well, thes2e thoughts will 3overpower and kill t1hee. Beware! Suffe2r not their shadow 3to approach. For it1 will grow, increase2 in size and power, 3and then this thing 1of darkness will abs2orb thy being before3thou hast well reali1zed the black foul m2onster's presence. 3The butcher relentet0h not at the bleatin2g of the lamb; 3neither is the heart1 of the cruel moved 2with distress. But 3the tears of the com1passionate are sweet2er than dew-drops, 3falling from roses o1n the bosom of sprin2g. 3If Jupiter hurled hi0s thunderbolt as oft2en as men sinned, 3he would soon be out1 of thunderbolts. 2In whatever manner y0ou fashion a wicked 2man, 3It is impossible to 1make his nature good2. 3You may wash charcoa1l with zeal, 2But you will not mak1e it white. 2Capricious, wanton, 0bold, and brutal lus2t 3Is meanly selfish; w1hen resisted, cruel;2And, like the blast 1of pestilential wind2s, 3Taints the sweet blo1om of nature's faire2st forms. 3When our vices leave0 us, we flatter ours2elves with the 3idea that we have le1ft them. 2Vice is a monster so0 frightful mien, 2As to be hated needs1 but to be seen; 2Yet too oft, familia1r with her face, 2We first endure, the1n pity, then embrace2. 3Scarcely anything aw0akens attention like2 a tale of cruelty. 3The writer of news n1ever fails to tell h2ow the enemy 3murdered children an1d ravished virgins. 2I would not enter in0 my list of friends,2Who needlessly sets 1foot upon a worm. 2An inadvertent step 1may crush the snail 2That crawls at eveni1ng in the public pat2h, 3But he has the human1ity, forewarned, 2Will tread aside, an1d let the reptile li2ve. 3Evils in the journey0 of life are like th2e hills which alarm 3travelers on their r1oad. - Both appear g2reat at a distance, 3but when we approach1 them we find they a2re far less 3insurmountable than 1we had conceived. 2There are times when0 it would seem as if2 God fished with a 3line, and the Devil 1with a net. 2But, by all thy natu0re's weakness, 2 Hidden faults and 1follies known, 2Be thou, in rebuking1 evil, 2 Conscious of thine1 own. 2Wild animals never k0ill for sport. Man 2is the only one to 3whom the torture and1 death of his fellow2 creatures is 3amusing in itself. 1It is a proof of our0 natural bias to evi2l, that 3in all things good, 1gain is harder and s2lower than loss; 3but in all things ba1d or evil, getting i2s quicker 3and easier than gett1ing rid of them. 2Vice is waste of lif0e. Poverty, obedien2ce, and celibacy 3are the canonical vi1ces. 2The very emphasis of0 the commandment: T2hou shalt not kill, 3makes it certain tha1t we are descended f2rom an endlessly 3long chain of genera1tions of murderers, 2whose love of murder3was in their blood a1s it is perhaps also2 in ours. 3It is a sin to belie0ve evil of others, 2but it is seldom a m1istake. 2Virtuous ten years -0 still not enough. 2Evil one day - too m1uch already. 2Men do not fail; the0y give up trying. 2Failure - The man wh0o can tell others wh2at to do and how to 3do it, but never doe1s it himself. 2People in their hand0lings of affairs oft2en fail when they 3 are about to succ1eed. 2If one remains as ca1reful at the end as 2he was at the 3 beginning, there 1will be no failure. 2There are some defea0ts more triumphant t2han victories. 3One seldom rushes in0to a single error. 2Rushing into the 3first one, one alway1s does too much. He2nce one usually 3commits another; and1 this time does too 2little. 3In this world there 0are only two tragedi2es. One is not 3getting what one wan1ts, and the other is2 getting it. The 3last is much the wor1st; the last is a re2al tragedy! 3Defeat ensues when o0thers interfere with2 the authority 3of the chosen leader1. Divided command i2s often fatal. 3Few things are impra0cticable in themselv2es. It is for want 3of application, rath1er than of means, th2at men fail. 3There are few, very 0few, that will own t2hemselves in a 3mistake. 1Failure is more freq0uently from want of 2energy than want 3of capital. 1He only is exempt fr0om failures who make2s no efforts. 3A failure establishe0s only this, 2that our determinati1on to succeed was no2t strong enough. 3The only real failur0e in life 2is not to be true to1 the best one knows.2Show me a thoroughly0 satisfied man - and2 I will show 3you a failure. 1A lost battle is a b0attle one thinks one2 has lost. 3Experience is the na0me everyone gives to2 his mistakes. 3No man is a failure 0who is enjoying life2. 3If the first words f0ail... 2Ten thousand will no1t then avail. 2What is defeat? Not0hing but education; 2nothing but the firs1t step to something 2better. 3How far high failure0 overleaps the bound2 of low successes. 3"All honor to him wh0o shall win the priz2e," 3 The world has crie1d for a thousand yea2rs; 3But to him who tries1 and fails and dies,2 I give great honor1 and glory and tears2. 3Sometimes a noble fa0ilure serves the wor2ld as faithfully 3as a distinguished s1uccess. 2There is something g0ood in all seeming f2ailures. You are 3not to see that now.1 Time will reveal i2t. Be patient. 3It is often the fail0ure who is the pione2er of new lands, 3new undertakings, an1d new forms of expre2ssion. 3Good people are good0 because they've com2e to wisdom through 3failure. 1There are five thing0s which no one is ab2le to accomplish 3in this world: 1 first, to cease gr1owing old when he is2 growing old; 3 second, to cease b1eing sick; 2 third, to cease dy1ing; 2 fourth, to deny di1ssolution when there2 is dissolution; 3 fifth, to deny non1-being. 2The only safety for 0the conquered is to 2expect no safety. 3Misfortunes one can 0endure - they come f2rom outside, they 3are accidents. But 1to suffer for one's 2own faults - Ah! 3there is the sting o1f life. 2Man is not made for 0defeat. 2Victory has a hundre0d fathers but defeat2 is an orphan. 3Help yourself, and H0eaven will help you.2Defeat should never 0be a source of disco2uragement, 3but rather a fresh s1timulus. 2The surest way not t0o fail is to determi2ne to succeed. 3Ill-health, of body 0or of mind, is defea2t...Health alone 3is victory. Let all1 men, if they can ma2nage it, contrive 3to be healthy! 1The greatest mistake0 you can make in lif2e is to be 3continually fearing 1you will make one. 2Conquer thyself. Ti0ll thou hast done th2is, thou art 3but a slave; for it 1is almost as well to2 be subjected 3to another's appetit1e as to thine own. 2Believe and act as i0f it were impossible2 to fail. 3Do not brood over yo0ur past mistakes and2 failures as this 3will only fill your 1mind with grief, reg2ret and depression. 3Do not repeat them i1n the future. 2Behold prosperity, h0ow sweetly she flatt2ereth thee; how 3insensibly she robbe1th thee of thy stren2gth and thy 3vigour! Though thou1 has been constant i2n ill fortune, 3though thou has been1 invincible in distr2ess; yet by her 3thou art conquered: 1 not knowing that th2y strength returneth3not again; and yet t1hat thou again mayst2 need it. 3What though the fiel0d be lost? 2All is not lost; the1 unconquerable will,2And study of revenge1, immortal hate 2And courage never to1 submit or yield, 2And what else is not1 to be overcome. 2There are few people0 who are more often 2in the wrong 3than those who canno1t endure to be thoug2ht so. 3Not in the clamor of0 the crowded street,2Not in the shouts an1d plaudits of the th2rong, 3But in ourselves, ar1e triumph and defeat2. 3Greatly begin! Thou0gh thou have time 2But for a line, be t1hat sublime- 2Not failure, but low1 aim is crime. 2We are the doubles o0f those whose way 2 Was festal with fr1uits and flowers; 2Body and brain we we1re sound as they, 2 But the prizes wer1e not ours. 2Fame is the perfume 0of heroic deeds. 2Worldly fame is but 0a breath of wind tha2t blows now this 3way, and now that, a1nd changes name as i2t changes direction.3Fame is like a river0, that beareth up th2ings light and 3swollen, and drowns 1things weighty and s2olid. 3Fame is the echo of 0actions, resounding 2them to the world, 3save that the echo r1epeats only the last2 part, but fame 3relates all, and oft1en more than all. 2Fame is the thirst o0f youth. 2The dog barks; the C0aravan passes. 2Glory, like a shadow0, flieth from him wh2o pursueth it; but 3it followeth at the 1heels of him who wou2ld fly from it; 3if thou courtest it 1without merit, thou 2shalt never attain 3unto it; if thou des1ervest it, though th2ou hidest thyself, 3it will never forsak1e thee. 2There is no less dan0ger from great fame 2than from infamy. 3Good fame is like fi0re; when you have ki2ndled 3you may easily prese1rve it; but if you e2xtinguish it, 3you will not easily 1kindle it again. 2Death makes no conqu0est of this conquero2r: 3For now he lives in 1fame, though not in 2life. 3Even those who write0 against fame wish f2or the fame of 3having written well,1 and those who read 2their works desire 3the fame of having r1ead them. 2Renown is a source o0f toil and sorrow; 2obscurity is a sourc1e of happiness. 2Fame is what you hav0e taken, character i2s what you give. 3When to this truth y1ou awaken, then you 2begin to live. 3Fame is an illusive 0thing - here today, 2gone tomorrow. 3The fickle, shallow 1mob raises its heroe2s to the pinnacle 3of approval today an1d hurls them into ob2livion tomorrow 3at the slightest whi1m; cheers today, his2ses tomorrow; 3utter forgetfulness 1in a few months. 2The world, indeed, i0s like a dream and t2he treasures of 3the world are an all1uring mirage! Like 2the apparent 3distances in a pictu1re, things have no r2eality in them- 3selves, but they are1 like heat haze. 2I am not concerned t0hat I am not known, 2I seek to be worthy 1to be known. 2Toil, says the prove0rb, is the sire of f2ame. 3True glory takes roo0t, and even spreads;2 all false 3pretences, like flow1ers, fall to the gro2und; 3nor can any counterf1eit last long. 2Glory is like a circ0le in the water, whi2ch never ceaseth to 3enlarge itself, till1, by broad spreading2, it disperse to 3naught. 1The glories of our b0irth and state 2Are shadows, not sub1stantial things. 2Fame is no plant tha0t grows on mortal so2il. 3What is fame? The a0dvantage of being kn2own by people of 3whom you yourself kn1ow nothing, and for 2whom you care as 3little. 1And what is Fame? t0he Meanest have thei2r Day, 3The Greatest can but1 blaze, and pass awa2y. 3Wood burns because i0t has the proper stu2ff in it; and a man 3becomes famous becau1se he has the proper2 stuff in him. 3Fame, we may underst0and is no sure test 2of merit, but 3only a probability o1f such: it is an ac2cident, not a 3property of a man. 1Fame comes only when0 deserved, and then 2is as inevitable 3as destiny, for it i1s destiny. 2Men think highly of 0those who rise rapid2ly in the world; 3whereas nothing rise1s quicker than dust,2 straw, and 3feathers. 1Illusion is an eleme0nt which enters into2 all finite things, 3for everything that 1exists has only a re2lative, not an 3absolute, reality, s1ince the appearance 2which the hidden 3phenomenon assumes f1or any observer depe2nds upon his power 3of cognition. 1Fame usually comes t0o those who are thin2king about something3else. 1The day will come wh0en everyone will be 2famous for fifteen 3minutes. 1Glory follows virtue0 as if it were its s2hadow. 3The love of glory gi0ves an immense stimu2lus. 3It is pleasing to be0 pointed at with the2 finger and to have 3it said, "There goes1 the man." 2Of all the possessio0ns of this life fame2 is the noblest; 3when the body has su1nk into the dust 2the great name still1 lives. 2Let us not disdain g0lory too much; nothi2ng is finer, except 3virtue. - The height1 of happiness would 2be to unite both in 3this life. 1Fame, they tell you,0 is air; but without2 air there is no 3life for any; withou1t fame there is none2 for the best. 3Fame is the inherita0nce not of the dead,2 but of the living. 3It is we who look ba1ck with lofty pride 2to the great names 3of antiquity. 1Though fame is smoke0, its fumes are fran2kincense to human 3thoughts. 1Fame is that which i0s known to exist by 2the echo of its 3footsteps through co1ngenial minds. 2Fame lulls the fever0 of the soul, and ma2kes 3Us feel that we have1 grasp'd an immortal2ity. 3Glory drags all men 0along, low as well a2s high, 3bound captive at the1 wheels of her glitt2ering car. 3It is a wretched thi0ng to live on the fa2me of others. 3I do not like the ma0n who squanders life2 for fame; 3give me the man who 1living makes a name.2The love of fame is 0the last weakness wh2ich even the wise 3resign. 1And what after all i0s everlasting fame? 2 All together vanity3All fame is dangerou0s: Good, bringeth E2nvy; Bad, Shame. 3Men's fame is like t0heir hair, which gro2ws after they are 3dead, and with just 1as little use to the2m. 3Fame has also this g0reat drawback, that 2if we pursue it, 3we must direct our l1ives so as to please2 the fancy of men. 3There is not in the 0world so toilsome a 2trade as the 3pursuit of fame; lif1e concludes before y2ou have so much 3as sketched your wor1k. 2What's fame? a fanc0y'd life in other's 2breath. 3A thing beyond us, e1ven before our death2. 3What a heavy burden 0is a name that has b2ecome too famous. 3Fame is but the brea0th of people, 2and that often unwho1lesome. 2The paths of glory l0ead but to the grave2. 3Glory, built on self0ish principles, is s2hame and guilt. 3Celebrity is the cha0stisement of merit 2and the punishment o1f talent. 2How men long for cel0ebrity! Some would 2willingly sacrifice 3their lives for fame1, and not a few woul2d rather be known 3by their crimes than1 not known at all. 2Fame and power are t0he objects of all me2n. Even their 3partial fruition is 1gained by very few; 2and that, too, 3at the expense of so1cial pleasure, healt2h, conscience, life.3Fame is not just. S0he never finely or d2iscriminatingly 3praises, but coarsel1y hurrahs. 2Even the best things0 are not equal to th2eir fame. 3Fame - a few words u0pon a tombstone, and2 the truth of those 3not to be depended o1n. 2A celebrity is one w0ho is known to many 2persons he is 3glad he doesn't know1. 2Fame is the penalty 0of success. 2Jealousy is the pena1lty of fame. 2True glory consists 0in doing what deserv2es to be written; 3in writing what dese1rves to be read; and2 in so living as to 3make the world happi1er and better for ou2r living in it. 3All the fame you sho0uld look for in life2is to have lived it 1quietly. 2The fame of great me0n ought always to be2 estimated by the 3means used to acquir1e it. 2Avoid popularity; it0 has many snares, an2d no real benefit. 3Of present fame thin0k little, and of fut2ure less; the 3praises that we rece1ive after we are bur2ied, like the 3flowers that are str1ewed over our grave,2 may be gratifying 3to the living, but t1hey are nothing to t2he dead... 3He who would acquire0 fame must not show 2himself afraid of 3censure. The dread 1of censure is the de2ath of genius. 3The veil of illusion0 cannot be lifted by2 a mere decision 3of reason, but deman1ds the most thorough2going and persever- 3ing preparation cons1isting in the full p2ayment of all debts 3to life. 1The life, which othe0rs pay, let us besto2w, 3And give to fame wha1t we to nature owe. 2She (Fame) walks on 0the earth, and her h2ead is concealed in 3the clouds. 1All your renown is l0ike the summer flowe2r that blooms and 3dies; because the su1nny glow which bring2s it forth, soon 3slays with parching 1power. 2There have been as g0reat souls unknown t2o fame as any of 3the most famous. 1He that pursues fame0 with just claims, t2rusts his happiness 3to the winds; but he1 that endeavors afte2r it by false merit,3has to fear, not onl1y the violence of th2e storm, but the 3leaks of his vessel.1O Fame! if I e'er t0ook delight in thy p2raises, 3'Twas less for the s1ake of thy high-soun2ding phrases, 3Than to see the brig1ht eyes of the dear 2one discover 3The thought that I w1as not unworthy to l2ove her. 3Thou hast a charmed 0cup, O Fame! 2 A draught that man1tles high, 2And seems to lift th1is earthly frame 2 Above mortality. 1Away! to me -a woman1- bring 2Sweet water from aff1ection's spring. 2Fame is a vapor, pop0ularity an accident,2 riches take wings, 3those who cheer toda1y will curse tomorro2w, only one thing 3endures - character.1Lives of great men a0ll remind us 2 We can make our li1ves sublime, 2And, departing, leav1e behind us 2 Footprints on the 1sands of time. 2Fame is a bee 0It has a song- 1It has a sting- 1Ah, too, it has a wi1ng. 2Don't part with your0 illusions. When th2ey are gone you 3may still exist, but1 you have ceased to 2live. 3It is dangerous to l0et the public behind2 the scenes. They 3are easily disillusi1oned and then they a2re angry with you, 3for it was the illus1ion they loved. 2Riches: A dream in 0the night... 2Fame: A gull floati1ng on water. 2The family is the nu0cleus of civilizatio2n. 3A family is a place 0where minds come in 2contact with one 3another. If these m1inds love one anothe2r the home will be 3as beautiful as a fl1ower garden. But if2 these minds get 3out of harmony with 1one another it is li2ke a storm that 3plays havoc with the1 garden. 2If we could trace ou0r descendants, we sh2ould find all slaves3to come from princes1, and all princes fr2om slaves. 3Children sweeten lab0ors; but they make m2isfortunes more 3bitter. 1Children wish father0s looked but with th2eir eyes; 3fathers that childre1n with their judgmen2t looked; 3and either may be wr1ong. 2The child is father 0of the man. 2Every man is his own0 ancestor, and every2 man is his 3own heir. He devise1s his own future, an2d he inherits 3his own past. 1Many children, many 0cares; no children, 2no felicity. 3All happy families r0esemble one another;2every unhappy family1 is unhappy in its o2wn way. 3When a father gives 0to his son, both lau2gh; 3when a son gives to 1his father, both cry2. 3It is of no conseque0nce of what parents 2a man is born, 3so he be a man of me1rit. 2Some men by ancestry0 are only the shadow2 of a mighty name. 3It is a wise father 0that knows his own c2hild. 3Those who depend on 0the merits of their 2ancestors may be 3said to search in th1e roots of the tree 2for those fruits 3which the branches o1ught to produce. 2There must always be0 a struggle between 2a father and son, 3while one aims at po1wer and the other at2 independence. 3The future destiny o0f the child is alway2s the work of the 3mother. 1There are fathers wh0o do not love their 2children; 3there is no grandfat1her who does not ado2re his grandson. 3Men are what their m0others made them. 2Mother is the name f0or God in the lips a2nd hearts of 3children. 1There is no friendsh0ip, no love, like th2at of the parent 3for the child. 1Where does the famil0y start? It starts 2with a young man 3falling in love with1 a girl - no superio2r alternative has 3yet been found. 1The family you come 0from isn't as import2ant as the family 3you're going to have1. 2What gift has Provid0ence bestowed on man2 that is so dear 3to him as his childr1en? 2Who is not attracted0 by bright and pleas2ant children, 3to prattle, to creep1, and to play with t2hem? 3Children are poor me0n's riches. 2The happiest moments0 of my life have bee2n the few which I 3have passed at home 1in the bosom of my f2amily. 3In the family where 0the father rules sec2ure, there dwells 3the peace which thou1 wilt in vain seek f2or elsewhere in 3the wide world outsi1de. 2To make a happy fire0-side clime 2 To weans and wif1e, 2That's the true path1os and sublime 2 Of human life. 1Where children are, 0there is the golden 2age. 3Call not that man wr0etched, who whatever2 ills he suffers, 3has a child to love.1A father may turn hi0s back on his child,2 brothers and 3sisters may become i1nveterate enemies, h2usbands may desert 3their wives, wives t1heir husbands. But 2a mother's love 3endures through all.1Nor need we power or0 splendour, 2 Wide hall or lordl1y dome; 2The good, the true, 1the tender- 2 These form the wea1lth of home. 2A happy family is bu0t an earlier heaven.2Children are living 0jewels dropped unsus2tained from heaven. 3Nature's loving prox0y, the watchful moth2er. 3Children are the key0s of paradise. 2A child is a beam of0 sunlight from the I2nfinite and Eternal,3with possibilites of1 virtue and vice - b2ut as yet unstained.3For unflagging inter0est and enjoyment, a2 household of 3children, if things 1go reasonably well, 2certainly all 3other forms of succe1ss and achievement l2ose their 3importance by compar1ison. 2Few sons attain the 0praise 2Of their great sires1 and most their sire2s disgrace. 3He who boasts of his0 descent, praises th2e deeds of another. 3When your eyes are f0ixed in the stare of2 unconsciousness, 3And your throat coug1hs the last gasping 2breath - 3As one dragged in th1e dark to a great pr2ecipice - 3What assistance are 1a wife and child? 2He that hath a wife 0and children hath gi2ven hostages to 3fortune; for they ar1e impediments to gre2at enterprises, 3either of virtue or 1mischief. 2Some people seem com0pelled by unkind fat2e to parental 3servitude for life. 1 There is no form of2 penal servitude 3worse than this. 1Parents wonder why t0he streams are bitte2r, when they 3themselves have pois1oned the fountain. 2It is only shallow-m0inded pretenders who2 either make 3distinguished origin1 a matter of persona2l merit, 3or obscure origin a 1matter of personal r2eproach. 3Pride of origin, whe0ther high or low, sp2rings from the same 3principle in human n1ature; one is but th2e positive, the 3other the negative, 1pole of a single wea2kness. 3Relations are simply0 a tedious pack of p2eople who haven't 3got the remotest kno1wledge of how to liv2e, nor the smallest 3instinct about when 1to die. 2The first half of ou0r lives is ruined by2 our parents and the3second half by our c1hildren. 2I have certainly kno0wn more men destroye2d by the desire to 3have a wife and chil1d and to keep them i2n comfort than I 3have seen destroyed 1by drink and harlots2. 3A proper balance mus0t be struck between 2indulgence and 3severity. However, 1severity, despite oc2casional mistakes, 3is preferable to a l1ack of discipline. 2Train up a child in 0the way he should go2 and when he is old,3he will not depart f1rom it. 2It is fortunate to c0ome of distinguished2 ancestry. - It is 3not less so to be su1ch that people do no2t care to inquire 3whether you are of h1igh descent or not. 2Children have more n0eed of models than o2f critics. 3It is better to be t0he builder of our ow2n name than to be 3indebted by descent 1for the proudest gif2ts known to the 3books of heraldry. 1To bring up a child 0in the way he should2 go, travel that way3yourself once in a w1hile. 2A torn jacket is soo0n mended; 2but hard words bruis1e the heart of a chi2ld. 3Do not confine your 0children to your own2 learning, 3for they were born i1n another time. 2The voice of parents0 is the voice of god2s, for to their 3children they are he1aven's lieutenants. 2The man who has noth0ing to boast of but 2his illustrious 3ancestry is like a p1otato, - the only go2od belonging to him 3is underground. 1Behold the child, by0 nature's kindly law2, 3pleased with a rattl1e, tickled with a st2raw. 3Who ran to help me w0hen I fell, 2And would some prett1y story tell, 2Or kiss the place to1 make it well? 2My Mother. 1Youth fades; love dr0oops; the leaves of 2friendship fall; 3a mother's secret ho1pe outlives them all2! 3When I was a boy of 0fourteen, my father 2was so ignorant 3I could hardly stand1 to have the old man2 around. 3But when I got to be1 twenty-one, 2I was astonished at 1how much he had lear2ned in seven years. 3The bravest battle t0hat ever was fought;2 Shall I tell you w1here and when? 2On the maps of the w1orld you will find i2t not; 3 It was fought by t1he mothers of men. 2If you cannot get ri0d of the family skel2eton, 3you may as well make1 it dance. 2Children begin by lo0ving their parents. 2After a time they ju1dge them. 2Rarely, if ever, do 1they forgive them. 2If I were hanged on 0the highest hill, 2Mother o' mine, O mo1ther o' mine! 2I know whose love wo1uld follow me still,2Mother o' mine, O mo1ther o' mine! 2Children aren't happ0y with nothing to ig2nore, 3And that's what pare1nts were created for2. 3God could not be eve0rywhere, and therefo2re he made mothers. 3An ounce of mother i0s worth a pound of c2lergy. 3The wheel of fortune0 turns round incessa2ntly, and who can 3say to himself, "I s1hall to-day be upper2most." 3Fate is the endless 0chain of causation, 2whereby things are; 3the reason or formul1a by which the world2 goes on. 3It is fortune, not w0isdom, that rules ma2n's life. 3Fortune is a shadow 0upon a wall. 2It is not in the sta0rs to hold our desti2ny but in ourselves;3we are underlings. 1Fate is nothing but 0the deeds committed 2in a prior state of 3existence. 1The wheel goes round0 and round, 2And some are up and 1some are on the down2, 3And still the wheel 1goes round. 2Luck is tenacity of 0purpose. 2Throw a lucky man in0to the sea, 2and he will come up 1with a fish in his m2outh. 3A man's felicity con0sists not in the out2ward and visible 3blessing of fortune,1 but in the inward a2nd unseen 3perfections and rich1es of the mind. 2Birth goes with deat0h. Fortune goes wit2h misfortune. 3Bad things follow go1od things. Men shou2ld realize these. 3Foolish people dread1 misfortune and stri2ve after good 3fortune, but those w1ho seek Enlightenmen2t must transcend 3both of them and be 1free of the worldly 2attachments. 3Fortune is never per0manently...adverse o2r favorable; 3one sees her veering1 from one mood to th2e other. 3The fates lead the w0illing, and drag the2 unwilling. 3Fortune gives too mu0ch to many, enough t2o none. 3That which is not al0lotted - the hand ca2nnot reach, 3and what is allotted1 - will find you whe2rever you may be. 3Ill Fortune never cr0ushed that man whom 2good Fortune 3deceived not. 1The less we deserve 0good fortune, the mo2re we hope for it. 3The power of fortune0 is confessed only b2y the miserable, 3for the happy impute1 all their success t2o prudence or merit.3Every night and ever0y morn 2Some to misery are b1orn; 2Every morn and every1 night 2Some are born to swe1et delight. 2It sounds like stori0es from the land of 2spirits, 3If any man obtain th1at which he merits, 2Or any merit that wh1ich he obtains. 2Destiny has two ways0 of crushing us - 2by refusing our wish1es and by fulfilling2 them. 3It is wrong to think0 that misfortunes co2me from the east 3or from the west; th1ey originate within 2one's own mind. 3Therefore, it is foo1lish to guard agains2t misfortunes from 3the external world a1nd leave the inner m2ind uncontrolled. 3No man has perpetual0 good fortune. 2Men are seldom bless0ed with good fortune2 and good sense 3at the same time. 1Fortune is brittle a0s glass, and when sh2e is most refulgent,3she is often most un1expectedly broken. 2A lucky man is rarer0 than a white crow. 2This body, full of f0aults, 2Has yet one great qu1ality: 2Whatever it encounte1rs in this temporal 2life 3Depends upon one's a1ctions. 2Everything that exis0ts is in a manner th2e seed of that which3will be. 1The Moving Finger wr0ites; and having wri2t, 3Moves on; nor all yo1ur Piety nor Wit 2Shall lure it back t1o cancel half a Line2, 3Nor all your Tears w1ash out a Word of it2. 3He who owes least to0 fortune is in the s2trongest position. 3Fortune is a woman, 0and therefore friend2ly to the young, 3who with audacity co1mmand her. 2Fortune is like the 0market, where, many 2times, 3if you can stay a li1ttle, the price will2 fall. 3Men at some time are0 masters of their fa2tes. 3Every one is the arc0hitect of his own fo2rtune. 3Heaven from all crea0tures hides the book2 of fate. 3He that waits upon F0ortune, is never sur2e of a Dinner. 3Human life is more g0overned by fortune t2han by reason. 3Fortune is ever seen0 accompanying indust2ry. 3Man supposes that he0 directs his life an2d governs his 3actions, when his ex1istence is irretriev2ably under the 3control of destiny. 1There is no such thi0ng as chance; and wh2at seem to us 3merest accident spri1ngs from the deepest2 source of destiny. 3Shallow men believe 0in luck, 2wise and strong men 1in cause and effect.2Chance happens to al0l, but to turn chanc2e to account is 3the gift of few. 1Fortune truly helps 0those who are of goo2d judgment. 3Happy the man who ca0n endure the highest2 and the lowest for1tune. 2He, who has endured 1such vicissitudes wi2th equanimity, 3 has deprived misfo1rtune of its power. 2Whatever the univers0al nature assigns to2 any man at any time3is for the good of t1hat man at that time2. 3The way of fortune i0s like the milkyway 2in the sky; which 3is a number of small1 stars, not seen asu2nder, but giving 3light together: so 1it is a number of li2ttle and scarce 3discerned virtues, o1r rather faculties a2nd customs, that 3make men fortunate. 1Chance corrects us o0f many faults that r2eason would not know3how to correct. 1To be thrown upon on0e's own resources is2 to be cast into the3very lap of fortune:1 for our faculties 2then undergo a 3development and disp1lay an energy of whi2ch they were 3previously unsuscept1ible. 2The best fortune tha0t can fall to a man 2is that which 3corrects his defects1 and makes up for hi2s failings. 3Toil is the lot of a0ll, and bitter woe 2The fate of many. 1Fortune is not on th0e side of the faint-2hearted. 3A strict belief in f0ate is the worst of 2slavery, 3imposing upon our ne1cks an everlasting l2ord and tyrant, 3whom we are to stand1 in awe of night and2 day. 3When fortune favors 0a man too much, she 2makes him a fool. 3Whatever fortune has0 raised to a height,2she has raised only 1to cast it down. 2They are raised on h0igh that they may be2 dashed to 3pieces with a greate1r fall. 2Although men flatter0 themselves with the2ir great actions, 3they are not so ofte1n the result of a gr2eat design as of 3chance. 1Chance is a word voi0d of sense; 2nothing can exist wi1thout a cause. 2Fortune! There is n0o fortune; all is tr2ial, or punishment, 3or recompense, or fo1resight. 2We do not know what 0is really good or ba2d fortune. 3Man, be he who he ma0y, experiences a las2t piece of 3good fortune and a l1ast day. 2Destiny - A tyrant'0s authority for crim2e and a fool's 3excuse for failure. 1Diseases are often c0ured 2Never fate. 1See that prosperity 0elate not thine hear2t above measure; 3neither depress thy 1mind unto the depths2, because fortune 3beareth hard against1 thee. Her smiles a2re not stable, 3therefore build not 1thy confidence upon 2them; her frowns 3endureth not forever1, therefore let hope2 teach thee patience3Great progress and s0uccess can be realiz2ed. But spring 3does not last foreve1r, and the favorable2 trend will reverse 3itself in due time. 1 The wise man forese2es evil and handles 3its threat according1ly. 2People naturally fea0r misfortune and lon2g for good fortune, 3but if the distincti1on is carefully stud2ied, misfortune 3often turns out to b1e good fortune and g2ood fortune to be 3misfortune. The wis1e man learns to meet2 the changing 3circumstances of lif1e with an equitable 2spirit, being 3neither elated by su1ccess nor depressed 2by failure. 3Chance never helps t0hose who do not help2 themselves. 3Persevere: It is fi0tting, for a better 2fate 3awaits the afflicted1. 2If matters go badly 0now, they will not a2lways be so. 3Chance is always pow0erful. - Let your ho2ok be always cast; 3in the pool where yo1u least expect it, t2here will be a fish.3Depend not on fortun0e, but on conduct. 2We are sure to get t0he better of fortune2 if we do 3but grapple with her1. 2If fortune favors yo0u do not be elated; 2if she frowns do not1 despond. 2'Tis writ on Paradis0e's gate 2"Woe to the dupe tha1t yields to Fate!" 2If a man look sharpl0y and attentively, 2he shall see Fortune1: for though she be2 blind, 3yet she is not invis1ible. 2What fates impose, t0hat men must needs a2bide; 3It boots not to resi1st both wind and tid2e. 3There is tide in the0 affairs of men, whi2ch, taken at the 3flood, leads on to f1ortune; omitted, all2 the voyage of 3their life is bound 1in shallows and in m2iseries; on such a 3full sea we are now 1afloat; and we must 2take the current 3when it serves, or l1ose our ventures. 2Whether in favor or 0in humiliation, be n2ot dismayed. Let 3your eyes leisurely 1look at the flowers 2blooming and 3falling in your cour1tyard. Whether you 2leave or retain 3your position, take 1no care. Let your m2ind wander with 3the clouds folding a1nd unfolding beyond 2the horizon. 3We should manage our0 fortune as we do ou2r health - enjoy it 3when good, be patien1t when it is bad, an2d never apply 3violent remedies exc1ept in an extreme ne2cessity. 3It is a madness to m0ake Fortune the mist2ress of events, 3because in herself s1he is nothing, but i2s ruled by Prudence.3Industry, perseveran0ce, and frugality ma2ke fortune yield. 3Chance generally fav0ors the prudent. 2Intellect annuls fat0e. So far as a man 2thinks, he is free. 3No living man can se0nd me to the shades 2Before my time; no m1an of woman born, 2Coward or brave, can1 shun his destiny. 2Death and life have 0their determined app2ointments; 3riches and honors de1pend upon heaven. 2Wherever the fates l0ead us let us follow2. 3The lofty pine is of0tenest shaken by the2 winds; 3 High towers fall w1ith a heavier crash;2And the lightning st1rikes the highest mo2untain. 3Two fates still hold0 us fast, 2A future and a past;1Two vessels' vast em1brace 2Surrounds us - Time 1and Space. 2Whenever we ask what1 end 2Our Maker did intend1, 2Some answering voice1 is heard 2That utters no plain1 word. 2The bad fortune of t0he good 2 turns their faces 1up to heaven; 2the good fortune of 1the bad 2 bows their heads d1own to the earth. 2Fortune, the great c0ommandress of the wo2rld, 3Hath divers ways to 1advance her follower2s: 3To some she gives ho1nor without deservin2g; 3To other some, deser1ving without honor; 2Some wit, some wealt1h, - and some, wit w2ithout wealth; 3Some wealth without 1wit; some nor wit no2r wealth. 3Will Fortune never c0ome with both hands 2full, 3But write her fair w1ords still in foules2t letters? 3She either gives a s1tomach, and no food;2Such are the poor, i1n health: or else a 2feast, 3And takes away the s1tomach; such are the2 rich, 3That have abundance,1 and enjoy it not. 2'Tis Fate that fling0s the dice, 2And as she flings 1Of kings makes peasa1nts, 2And of peasants king1s. 2But blind to former 0as to future fate, 2What mortal knows hi1s pre-existent state2? 3Fate steals along wi0th silent tread, 2Found oftenest in wh1at least we dread; 2Frowns in the storm 1with angry brow, 2But in the sunshine 1strikes the blow. 2All are architects o0f Fate, 2Working in these wal1ls of Time; 2Some with massive de1eds and great, 2Some with ornaments 1of rhyme. 2The wheel of the Goo0d Law moves swiftly 2on. It grinds by 3night and day. The 1worthless husks it d2rives from out 3the golden grain, th1e refuse from the fl2our. The hand of 3fate guides the whee1l; the revolutions m2ark the beatings 3of the heart of mani1festation 2Fortune knocks at ev0ery man's door once 2in a life, but 3in a good many cases1 the man is in a nei2ghboring saloon 3and does not hear he1r. 2I do not know beneat0h what sky 2 Nor on what seas s1hall be thy fate; 2I only know it shall1 be high, 2 I only know it sha1ll be great. 2He either fears his 0fate too much, 2 Or his deserts are1 small, 2That dares not put i1t to the touch 2 To gain or lose it1 all. 2Fear makes men belie0ve the worst. 2Worry, the interest 0paid by those who bo2rrow trouble. 3What are fears but v0oices airy? 2Whispering harm wher1e harm is not. 2And deluding the unw1ary 2Til the fatal bolt i1s shot! 2Fear always springs 0from ignorance. 2A panic is sudden de0sertion of us, and a2 going over to the 3enemy of our imagina1tion. 2Favour and disgrace 0are like fear. 2Favour is in a highe1r place, and disgrac2e in a lower place. 3When you win them yo1u are like being in 2fear, 3and when you lose th1em you are also like2 being in fear. 3So favour and disgra1ce are like fear. 2Valor grows by darin0g, fear by holding b2ack. 3Fearfulness, contrar0y to all other vices2, maketh a man think3the better of anothe1r, the worse of hims2elf. 3To fear the foe, sin0ce fear oppresseth s2trength, 3Gives in your weakne1ss strength unto you2r foe. 3He that fears you pr0esent, will hate you2 absent. 3From a distance it i0s something; and nea2rby it is nothing. 3The man who fears no0thing is not less po2werful 3than he who is feare1d by every one. 2Nothing in the affai0rs of men is worthy 2of great anxiety. 3No one loves the man0 whom he fears. 2We fear things in pr0oportion to our igno2rance of them. 3Everyone wishes that0 the man whom he fea2rs would perish. 3For it is not death 0or hardship that is 2a fearful thing, 3but the fear of deat1h and hardship. 2Even the bravest men0 are frightened by s2udden terrors. 3Where fear is presen0t, wisdom cannot be.2Present fears are le0ss than horrible ima2ginings. 3We often pretend to 0fear what we really 2despise, 3and more often despi1se what we really fe2ar. 3There is great beaut0y in going through l2ife without anxiety 3or fear. Half our 1fears are baseless, 2and the other half 3discreditable. 1We often hear of peo0ple breaking down fr2om overwork, 3but in nine out of t1en they are really s2uffering from 3worry or anxiety. 1Fear is the mother o0f morality. 2Our instinctive emot0ions are those that 2we have inherited 3from a much more dan1gerous world, and co2ntain, therefore, 3a larger portion of 1fear than they shoul2d. 3The only thing we ha0ve to fear is fear i2tself. 3I have never yet met0 a healthy person wh2o worried very 3much about his healt1h, or a really good 2person who worried 3much about his own s1oul. 2Fear comes from unce0rtainty. When we ar2e absolutely 3certain, whether of 1our worth or worthle2ssness, we are 3almost impervious to1 fear. Thus a feeli2ng of utter 3unworthiness can be 1a source of courage.2Just as courage impe0rils life, fear prot2ects it. 3Fear is implanted in0 us as a preservativ2e from evil; 3but its duty, like t1hat of other passion2s, 3is not to overbear r1eason, but to assist2 it. 3It should not be suf1fered to tyrannize 2in the imagination, 1to raise phantoms of2 horror, 3or to beset life wit1h supernumerary dist2resses. 3Early and provident 0fear is the mother o2f safety. 3Better to be despise0d for too anxious ap2prehensions 3than ruined by too c1onfident a security.2Fear is the mother o0f foresight. 2Good men have the fe0west fears. 2He has but one great1 fear who fears to d2o wrong; 3he has a thousand wh1o has overcome it. 2A good scare is wort0h more to a man than2 good advice. 3As the ostrich when 0pursued hideth his h2ead, but forgetteth 3his body; so the fea1rs of a coward expos2e him to danger. 3Fear is not a lastin0g teacher of duty. 2In extreme danger fe0ar feels no pity. 2Fear is proof of a d0egenerate mind. 2The mind that is anx0ious about the futur2e is miserable. 3There is no passion 0so contagious as tha2t of fear. 3Fear follows crime a0nd is its punishment2. 3In morals what begin0s in fear usually en2ds in wickedness; 3in religion what beg1ins in fear usually 2ends in fanaticism. 3Fear, either as a pr1inciple or a motive,2 is the beginning of3all evil. 1Worry - A god, invis0ible but omnipotent.2 It steals the 3bloom from the cheek1 and lightness from 2the pulse; it takes 3away the appetite, a1nd turns the hair gr2ay. 3Anxiety does not emp0ty tomorrow of its s2orrows, 3but only empties tod1ay of its strength. 2Depression, gloom, p0essimism, despair, d2iscouragement, these3slay ten human being1s to every one murde2red by typhoid, 3influenza, diabetes 1or pneumonia. If tu2berculosis is the 3great white plague, 1then fear is the gre2at black plague. 3There is perhaps not0hing so bad and so d2angerous in life 3as fear. 1Who sees all beings 0in his own Self, and2 his own Self in all3beings, loses all fe1ar. 2Suffer no anxiety, f0or he who is a suffe2rer of anxiety 3becomes regardless o1f enjoyment of the w2orld and the 3spirit, and contract1ion happens to his b2ody and soul. 3The whole secret of 0existence is to have2 no fear. 3Never fear what will1 become of you, depe2nd on no one. 3Only the moment you 1reject all help are 2you freed. 3Do not be anxious ab0out tomorrow, for to2morrow will be 3anxious for itself. 1 Let the day's own t2rouble be 3sufficient for the d1ay. 2An anthill increases0 by accumulation. 2Medicine is consumed1 by distribution. 2That which is feared1 lessens by associat2ion. 3This is the thing to1 understand. 2It is not death that0 a man should fear, 2but he should fear n1ever beginning to li2ve. 3What is not to be, w0ill not be; if it is2 to be, it cannot 3be otherwise; why do1 you not drink this 2antidote that 3destroys the poison 1of care? 2Nothing is to be fea0red but fear. 2Things done well and0 with a care, 2exempt themselves fr1om fear. 2Things without remed0y, should be without2 regard; 3what is done, is don1e. 2Fear nothing but wha0t thy industry may p2revent; 3be confident of noth1ing but what fortune2 cannot defeat; 3it is no less folly 1to fear what is impo2ssible to be avoided3than to be secure wh1en there is a possib2ility to be 3deprived. 1Do not anticipate tr0ouble, or worry abou2t what may never 3happen. Keep in the1 sunlight. 2They can conquer who0 believe they can. 2He has not learned 3the first lesson of 1life who does not ev2ery day surmount a 3fear. 1As a cure for worryi0ng, work is better t2han whiskey. 3When one is in fear 0he should appear to 2be fearless. One 3should seem to be tr1ustful while really 2mistrusting others. 3Such a man is never 1ruined. 2He who knows Self as0 the enjoyer of 2The honey from the f1lowers of the senses2, 3Ever present within,1 ruler of time, 2Goes beyond fear. F1or this Self is Supr2eme! 3When one has the fee0ling of dislike for 2evil, when one 3feels tranquil, one 1finds pleasure in li2stening to good 3teachings; when one 1has these feelings a2nd appreciates 3them, one is free of1 fear. 2I am frightened at s0eeing all the footpr2ints directed 3towards thy den, and1 none returning. 2Cowards die many tim0es before their deat2hs; 3The valiant never ta1ste of death but onc2e. 3Of all the wonders t1hat I yet have heard2, 3It seems to me most 1strange that men sho2uld fear; 3What will come when 1it will come. 2I could a tale unfol0d whose lightest wor2d 3Would harrow up thy 1soul, freeze thy you2ng blood, 3Make thy two eyes, l1ike stars, start fro2m their spheres, 3Thy knotted and comb1ined locks to part 2And each particular 1hair to stand on end2, 3Like quills upon the1 fretful porcupine. 2Huge and mighty form0s that do not live 2Like living men, mov1ed slowly through th2e mind 3By day, and were a t1rouble to my dreams.2Like one, that on a 0lonesome road 2Doth walk in fear an1d dread, 2And having once turn1ed round, walks on. 2And turns once more 1his head; 2Because he knows a f1rightful fiend 2Doth close behind hi1m tread. 2Fear at my heart, as0 at a cup, 2My life-blood seemed1 to sip! 2Oh, fear not in a wo0rld like this, 2And thou shalt know 1ere long, 2Know how sublime a t1hing it is 2To suffer and be str1ong. 2I, a stranger and af0raid 2In a world I never m1ade. 2Ignorance is the nig0ht of the mind, 2a night without moon1 or star. 2Not to understand wh0at is good and bad, 2Not to remember a ki1ndness one has recei2ved, 3Not to marvel at wha1t one has clearly pe2rceived - 3These are the charac1teristics of a fooli2sh man. 3Folly is wisdom spun0 too fine. 2A fool may be known 0by six things: 2anger, without cause1; speech, without pr2ofit; 3change, without prog1ress; inquiry withou2t object; 3putting trust in a s1tranger, and mistaki2ng foes for friends.3The fool is not alwa0ys unfortunate, nor 2the wise man always 3successful; yet neve1r has a fool thoroug2h enjoyment; never 3was a wise man wholl1y unhappy. 2When a wise man is a0dvised of his errors2, he will reflect 3on and improve his c1onduct. When his mi2sconduct is pointed 3out, a foolish man w1ill not only disrega2rd the advice but 3rather repeat the sa1me error. 2If a fool be associa0ted with a wise man 2even all his life, 3he will perceive the1 truth as little as 2a spoon perceives 3the taste of soup. 1If an intelligent ma2n be associated for 3only one minute with1 a wise man, he will2 soon perceive the 3truth, as the tongue1 perceives the taste2 of soup. 3Those who wish to ap0pear wise among fool2s, 3among the wise seem 1foolish. 2The foolish are like0 ripples on water, 2For whatsoever they 1do is quickly efface2d; 3But the righteous ar1e like carvings upon2 stone, 3For their smallest a1ct is durable. 2Wise men have more t0o learn of fools tha2n fools of wise men.3Young men think old 0men are fools; 2but old men know you1ng men are fools. 2The fool doth think 0he is wise, 2but the wise man kno1ws himself to be a f2ool. 3A learned fool is mo0re foolish than an i2gnorant fool. 3Folly enlarges men's0 desires 2while it lessens the1ir capacities. 2There are more fools0 than wise men; and 2even in wise 3men, more folly than1 wisdom. 2There is nothing in 0life so irrational, 2that good sense 3and chance may not s1et it to rights; not2hing so rational, 3that folly and chanc1e may not utterly co2nfound it. 3The wise man has his0 follies no less tha2n the fool; 3 but herein lies th1e difference - 2The follies of the f1ool are known to the2 world, 3 but are hidden fro1m himself; 2The follies of the w1ise man are known to2 himself, 3 but hidden from th1e world. 2What the fool does i0n the end, 2the wise man does in1 the beginning. 2Even a fool, when he0 holdeth his peace, 2is counted wise. 3There is a foolish c0orner even in the br2ain of the sage. 3It is the characteri0stic of folly to dis2cern the faults of 3others and forget it1s own. 2Who are a little wis0e the best fools be.2He who lives without0 committing any foll2y is not so 3wise as he thinks. 1A fool can ask more 0questions than the w2isest can answer. 3Very often, say what0 you will, a knave i2s only a fool. 3The first degree of 0folly is to conceit 2one's self wise; 3the second to profes1s it; the third to d2espise counsel. 3There is nothing by 0which men display th2eir character so 3much as in what they1 consider ridiculous2...Fools and 3sensible men are equ1ally innocuous. It 2is in the half fools3and the half wise th1at the great danger 2lies. 3Prejudice is the chi0ld of ignorance. 2Folly loves the mart0yrdom of Fame. 2There are many more 0fools in the world t2han there are 3knaves, otherwise th1e knaves could not e2xist. 3The ultimate result 0of shielding men fro2m the effects of 3folly is to fill the1 world with fools. 2If fifty million peo0ple say a foolish th2ing, 3it is still a foolis1h thing. 2It's a good thing to0 be foolishly gay on2ce in a while. 3The folly of one man0 is the fortune of a2nother; 3for no man prospers 1so suddenly as by ot2hers' errors. 3Silence is the wit o0f fools. 2The fool is happy th0at he knows no more.2The fool is like tho0se people who think 2themselves 3rich with little. 1Thou Graybeard, old 0Wisdom, mayst boast 2of thy treasures; 3 Give me with young1 Folly to live; 2I grant thee thy cal1m-blooded, time-sett2led pleasures; 3 But Folly has rapt1ures to give. 2Let us be thankful f0or the fools. But f2or them the rest 3of us could not succ1eed. 2Greed, lust, fear, a0nger, misfortune, un2happiness, all 3are derived from foo1lishness. Thus, foo2lishness is the 3greatest of poisons.1Ignorance, the produ0ct of darkness, stup2efies the senses in 3all embodied beings,1 binding them by the2 chains of folly, 3indolence and lethar1gy. 2A fool contributes n0othing worth hearing2 and takes offense 3at everything. 1The fool who knows h0is foolishness, is w2ise at least so 3far. But a fool who1 thinks himself wise2, he is called a 3fool indeed. 1To stumble twice aga0inst the same stone,2is a proverbial disg1race. 2In other living crea0tures ignorance of s2elf is nature; 3in man it is vice. 1Alas! we see that t0he small have always2 suffered 3for the follies of t1he great. 2Want and sorrow are 0the wages that folly2 earns for 3itself, and they are1 generally paid. 2Of all thieves fools0 are the worst; 2they rob you of time1 and temper. 2The greatest of faul0ts, I should say, is2 to be conscious of 3none. 1None but a fool is a0lways right. 2No folly is more cos0tly than the folly o2f intolerant 3idealism. 1Those who identify t0hemselves with the b2ody and have no 3soul-consciousness, 1are utterly ignorant2, though they may 3possess University d1egrees. Man speaks 2of his glory and 3achievements. It is1 all vanity. At the2 bottom of it all 3are sex, food, indol1ence and ignorance. 2Any fool can critici0ze, condemn and comp2lain - 3and most fools do. 1He's a Fool that can0not conceal his Wisd2om. 3I am always afraid o0f a fool; one cannot2 be sure he is 3not a knave. 1It is a great piece 0of folly to sacrific2e the inner for the 3outer man. 1No man really become0s a fool until he st2ops asking questions3The greatest lesson 0in life is to know t2hat even fools are 3right sometimes. 1He who through the e0rror of attachment l2oves his body, 3abides wandering in 1darkness, sensible a2nd suffering the 3things of death, but1 he who realizes tha2t the body is but 3the tomb of his soul1, rises to immortali2ty. 3What lies beyond lif0e shines not to thos2e who are childish, 3or careless, or delu1ded by wealth. "Thi2s is the only world:3there is no other," 1they say; and thus t2hey go from death 3to death. 1"These sons belong t0o me, and this wealt2h belongs to me"; 3with such thoughts a1 fool is tormented. 2 He himself does 3not belong to himsel1f; how much less son2s and wealth? 3For take thy balance0 if thou be so wise,2And weigh the wind t1hat under heaven dot2h blow; 3Or weigh the light t1hat in the east doth2 rise; 3Or weigh the thought1 that from man's min2d doth flow. 3What can be more foo0lish than to think t2hat all this rare 3fabric of heaven and1 earth could come by2 chance, 3when all the skill o1f art is not able to2 make an oyster! 3A fool always finds 0some greater fool to2 admire him. 3Exactness is the sub0limity of fools. 2A fool and his words0 are soon parted; 2a man of genius and 1his money. 2What a fool he must 0be who thinks that h2is El Dorado is 3anywhere but where h1e lives. 2Young people tell wh0at they are doing, 2old people what they1 have done 2and fools what they 1wish to do. 2No man is free who c0annot command himsel2f. 3Liberty consists in 0the power of doing t2hat which is 3permitted by the law1. 2Who then is free? 0The wise man who can1 command himself. 2Freedom is the right0 to live as we wish.2Liberty, then, about0 which so many volum2es have been written3is, when accurately 1defined, only the po2wer of acting. 3The sovereignty of o0ne's self over one's2 self is called 3Liberty. 1Freedom - to walk fr0ee and own no superi2or. 3Freedom is the emanc0ipation from the arb2itrary rule of other3men. 1Man is born free, ye0t he is everywhere i2n chains. 3None are more hopele0ssly enslaved 2than those who false1ly believe they are 2free. 3The shepherd drives 0the wolf from the sh2eep's throat, 3for which the sheep 1thanks the shepherd 2as his liberator, 3while the wolf denou1nces him for the sam2e act as the 3destroyer of liberty1. 2Freedom is the ferme0nt of freedom. The 2moistened sponge 3drinks up water gree1dily; the dry one sh2eds it. 3Only necessity under0stood, and bondage t2o the highest 3is identical with tr1ue freedom. 2Liberty has restrain0ts but not frontiers2. 3What a curious pheno0menon it is that you2 can get men to die 3for the liberty of t1he world who will no2t make the little 3sacrifice that is ne1eded to free themsel2ves from their 3own individual bonda1ge. 2No man was ever endo0wed with a right wit2hout being at the 3same time saddled wi1th a responsibility.2Communism destroys d0emocracy. 2Democracy can also d1estroy Communism. 2The basic test of fr0eedom is perhaps les2s in what we are 3free to do than in w1hat we are free not 2to do. 3We first have to fin0d the way of freedom2 from involvement 3before we can introd1uce freedom in invol2vement. 3The secret of Happin0ess is Freedom, 2and the secret of Fr1eedom, Courage. 2Democracy arose from0 men's thinking that2 if they are equal 3in any respect, they1 are equal absolutel2y. 3Freedom is not being0 a slave to any circ2umstance, to any 3constraint, to any c1hance; it means comp2elling Fortune to 3enter the lists on e1qual terms. 2Is any man free exce0pt the one 2who can pass his lif1e as he pleases? 2Liberty is given by 0nature even to mute 2animals. 3Only that thing is f0ree which exists by 2the necessities of 3its own nature, and 1is determined in its2 actions by itself 3alone. 1The true character o0f liberty is indepen2dence, 3maintained by force.1A country cannot sub0sist well without li2berty, 3nor liberty without 1virtue. 2Abstract liberty, li0ke other mere abstra2ctions, is not 3to be found. 1He is the freeman wh0om the truth makes f2ree, 3and all are slaves b1eside. 2Liberty, according t0o my metaphysics...i2s a self-determining3power in an intellec1tual agent. It impl2ies thought and 3choice and power. 1Enslave the liberty 0of but one human bei2ng and the liberties3of the world are put1 in peril. 2The only freedom whi0ch deserves the name2is that of pursuing 1our own good, in our2 own way, 3so long as we do not1 attempt to deprive 2others of theirs, 3or impede their effo1rts to obtain it. 2Freedom exists only 0where people take ca2re of the 3government. 1Liberty is not merel0y a privilege to be 2conferred; 3it is a habit to be 1acquired. 2Democracy is the wor0st system devised by2 the wit of man, 3except for all the o1thers. 2Perfect freedom is r0eserved for the man 2who lives by his own3work and in that wor1k does what he wants2 to do. 3When people are free0 to do as they pleas2e, they usually 3imitate each other. 1Democracy is a proce0ss, not a static con2dition. It is 3becoming, rather tha1n being. It can eas2ily be lost, but 3never is fully won. 1 Its essence is eter2nal struggle. 3Governing sense, min0d and intellect, int2ent on liberation, 3free from desire, fe1ar and anger, the sa2ge is forever free. 3In the light of his 0vision he has found 2his freedom: 3his thoughts are pea1ce, his words are pe2ace 3and his work is peac1e. 2What is so beneficia0l to the people as l2iberty, 3which we see not onl1y to be greedily sou2ght after by men, 3but also by beasts, 1and to be preferred 2to all things. 3Freedom all solace t0o man gives: 2He lives at ease tha1t freely lives. 2Liberty is one of th0e most precious gift2s which heaven has 3bestowed on man; wit1h it we cannot compa2re the treasures 3which the earth cont1ains or the sea conc2eals; for liberty, 3as for honor, we can1 and ought to risk o2ur lives; and, on 3the other hand, capt1ivity is the greates2t evil that can 3befall man. 1Countries are well c0ultivated, 2not as they are fert1ile, but as they are2 free. 3Freedom hath a thous0and charms to show, 2That slaves however 1contented never know2. 3Liberty, when it beg0ins to take root, 2is a plant of rapid 1growth. 2Perfect freedom is a0s necessary to the h2ealth and vigor 3of commerce as it is1 to the health and v2igor of citizenship.3Can anything be so e0legant as to have fe2w wants, 3and to serve them on1e's self? 2Freedom is the last,0 best hope of earth.2What light is to the0 eyes - what air is 2to the lungs - 3what love is to the 1heart, liberty is to2 the soul of man. 3Freedom is the open 0window through which2 pours the sunlight 3of the human spirit 1and human dignity. 2There are two good t0hings in life - 2freedom of thought a1nd freedom of action2. 3No man is free who i0s a slave to the fle2sh. 3No nation ancient of0 modern ever lost th2e liberty of freely 3speaking, writing, o1r publishing their s2entiments, but 3forthwith lost their1 liberty in general 2and became slaves. 3Those who would give0 up essential libert2y to purchase a 3little temporary saf1ety deserve neither 2liberty nor safety. 3But what is liberty 0without wisdom, and 2without virtue? 3It is the greatest o1f all possible evils2; 3for it is folly, vic1e, and madness, 2without tuition or r1estraint. 2Those who expect to 0reap the blessings o2f freedom must, 3like men, undergo th1e fatigue of support2ing it. 3The wish to be indep0endent of all men, a2nd not to be under 3obligation to any on1e is the sure sign o2f a soul without 3tenderness. 1Liberty is slow frui0t. It is never chea2p; 3it is made difficult1 because freedom is 2the accomplishment 3and perfectness of m1an. 2The man who seeks fr0eedom for anything b2ut freedom's self is3made to be a slave. 1The policy of Russia0 is changeless...Its2 methods, its 3tactics, its maneuve1rs may change, but t2he polar star of its3policy - world domin1ation - is a fixed s2tar. 3Not free from what, 0but free for what? 2Liberty means respon0sibility. 2That is why most men1 dread it. 2If a nation values a0nything more than fr2eedom, it will lose 3its freedom: and th1e irony of it is tha2t if it is comfort 3or money that it val1ues more, it will lo2se that, too. 3The death of democra0cy is not likely to 2be an assassination 3from ambush. It wil1l be a slow extincti2on from apathy, 3indifference, and un1dernourishment. 2Communism is the dea0th of the soul. It 2is the organization 3of total conformity 1- in short, of tyran2ny - and it is 3committed to making 1tyranny universal. 2Man is condemned to 0be free; because onc2e thrown into the 3world, he is respons1ible for everything 2he does. 3...while they (Commu0nists) preach the su2premacy of the state3and predict its even1tual domination of a2ll peoples on Earth,3they are the focus o1f evil in the modern2 world... 3Freedom is the sure 0possession of those 2alone who have the 3courage to defend it1. 2Men well governed sh0ould seek after no o2ther liberty, 3for there can be no 1greater liberty than2 a good government. 3Free people, remembe0r this maxim: We ma2y acquire liberty, 3but it is never reco1vered if it is once 2lost. 3Let all your views i0n life be directed t2o a solid, 3however moderate, in1dependence; without 2it no man can be 3happy, nor even hone1st. 2Our liberty depends 0on freedom of the pr2ess, 3and that cannot be l1imited without being2 lost. 3Yes! to this thought0 I hold with firm pe2rsistence; 3 The last result of1 wisdom stamps it tr2ue; 3He only earns his fr1eedom and existence 2 Who daily conquers1 them anew. 2Let us not be unmind0ful that liberty is 2power, that the 3nation blessed with 1the largest portion 2of liberty must in 3proportion to its nu1mbers be the most po2werful nation upon 3earth. 1Liberty will not des0cend to a people; 2a people must raise 1themselves to libert2y; it is 3a blessing that must1 be earned before it2 can be enjoyed. 3Whoever will be free0 must make himself f2ree. 3Freedom is no fairy 1gift to fall into a 2man's lap. 3What is freedom? 1To have the will to 1be responsible for o2ne's self. 3You can only protect0 your liberties in t2his world by 3protecting the other1 man's freedom. You2 can only be free if3I am free. 1To enjoy freedom we 0have to control ours2elves. 3If the fires of free0dom and civil libert2ies burn low in 3other lands, they mu1st be made brighter 2in our own...If in 3other lands the eter1nal truths of the pa2st are threatened by3intolerance, we must1 provide a safe plac2e for their 3perpetuation. 1By All Resources Rea0lize Yourself... 2Fetters fall off of 1themselves 2when the knowledge o1f self is gained. 2The saving man becom0es the free man. 2Happiness follows so0rrow, sorrow follows2 happiness, but 3when one no longer d1iscriminates happine2ss and sorrow, a 3good deal and a bad 1deed, one is able to2 realize freedom. 3The traveller has re0ached the end of the2 journey! 3In the freedom of th1e Infinite he is fre2e from all sorrows, 3the fetters that bou1nd him are thrown aw2ay, 3and the burning feve1r of life is no more2. 3Such being the happi0ness of the times, 2that you may think a1s you wish, 2and speak as you thi1nk. 2How happy is he born0 and taught, 2 That serveth not a1nother's will; 2Whose armour is his 1honest thought, 2 And simple truth h1is utmost skill! 2If I have freedom in0 my love, 2 And in my soul am 1free,- 2Angels alone that so1ar above, 2 Enjoy such liberty1. 2I am as free as natu0re first made man, 2Ere the base laws of1 servitude began, 2When wild in woods t1he noble savage ran.2Liberty is to the co0llective body, 2what health is to ev1ery individual body.2Without health no pl1easure can be tasted2 by man; 3without liberty, no 1happiness can be enj2oyed by society. 3The tree of liberty 0must be refreshed fr2om time to time 3with the blood of pa1triots and tyrants. 2 It is its natural 3manure. 1How does the Meadow 0flower its bloom unf2old? 3 Because the lovely1 little flower is fr2ee 3Down to its root, an1d in that freedom bo2ld. 3When Freedom from he0r mountain height 2 Unfurled her stand1ard to the air. 2She tore the azure r1obe of night, 2 And set the stars 1of glory there. 2Of old sat Freedom o0n the heights 2 The thunders break1ing at her feet: 2Above her shook the 1starry lights; 2 She heard the torr1ents meet. 2If a man does not ke0ep pace with his com2panions, 3perhaps it is becaus1e he hears a differe2nt drummer. 3Let him step to the 1music which he hears2, 3however measured or 1far away. 2His brow is wet with0 honest sweat 2 He earns what'er h1e can, 2And looks the whole 1world in the face, 2 For he owes not an1y man. 2We Americans...bear 0the ark of liberties2 of the world. 3It is by the goodnes0s of God that in our2 country 3we have those three 1unspeakably precious2 things: 3freedom of speech, f1reedom of conscience2, 3and the prudence nev1er to practice eithe2r. 3All we have of freed0om - all we use or k2now - 3This our fathers bou1ght for us, long and2 long ago. 3Friendship is compos0ed of a single soul 2inhabiting two 3bodies. 1What is thine is min0e, and all mine is t2hine. 3A friend is, as it w0ere, a second self. 2Friendship is Love w0ithout his wings! 2It is better to deci0de between our enemi2es than our friends;3for one of our frien1ds will most likely 2become our enemy; 3but on the other han1d, one of your enemi2es 3will probably become1 your friend. 2He who hath many fri0ends, hath none. 2To give counsel as w0ell as to take it 2is a feature of true1 friendship. 2It may be doubtful, 0at first, 2Whether a person is 1an enemy or friend. 2Meat, if not properl1y digested, becomes 2poison; 3But poison, if used 1rightly, may turn me2dicinal. 3Words are easy, like0 the wind; 2Faithful friends are1 hard to find. 2That friendship will0 not continue to the2 end 3which is begun for a1n end. 2He who has not the w0eakness of friendshi2p 3has not the strength1. 2Every friend is to t0he other a sun, and 2a sunflower also. 3He attracts and foll1ows. 2Our most intimate fr0iend is not he to wh2om we show the 3worst, but the best 1of our nature. 2The rule of friendsh0ip means there shoul2d be mutual 3sympathy between the1m, each supplying wh2at the other 3lacks and trying to 1benefit the other, a2lways using 3friendly and sincere1 words. 2Friendship is the on0ly thing in the worl2d concerning the 3usefulness of which 1all mankind are agre2ed. 3As the yellow gold i0s tried in fire, so 2the faith 3of friendship must b1e seen in adversity.2Friendship always be0nefits; love sometim2es injures. 3The mind is lowered 0through association 2with inferiors. 3With equals it attai1ns equality; and wit2h superiors, 3superiority. 1A friend who cannot 0at a pinch remember 2a thing or two that 3never happened is as1 bad as one who does2 not know how to 3forget. 1Rare as is true love0, true friendship is2 rarer. 3The more we love our0 friends, the less w2e flatter them; 3is is by excusing no1thing that pure love2 shows itself. 3Two persons cannot l0ong be friends if th2ey cannot 3forgive each other's1 little failings. 2Friendship's the pri0vilege of private me2n; 3for wretched greatne1ss knows no blessing2 so substantial. 3True friendship is a0 plant of slow growt2h, 3and must undergo and1 withstand the shock2s of adversity, 3before it is entitle1d to the appellation2. 3The qualities of you0r friends will be th2ose of your enemies,3cold friends, cold e1nemies; half friends2, half enemies; 3fervid enemies, warm1 friends. 2True friendship is l0ike sound health, 2the value of it is s1eldom known until it2 be lost. 3The condition which 0high friendship dema2nds is ability 3to do without it. 1A true friend is som0ebody who can make u2s do what we can. 3The language of frie0ndship is not words 2but meanings. 3False friends are li0ke our shadow, keepi2ng close to us 3while we walk in the1 sunshine, but leavi2ng us the instant 3we cross into the sh1ade. 2Friendship is almost0 always the union of2 a part of one mind 3with the part of ano1ther; people are fri2ends in spots. 3Secret forces are br0inging compatible sp2irits together. 3If the man permits h1imself to be led by 2this ineffable 3attraction, good for1tune will come his w2ay. When deep 3friendships exist, f1ormalities and elabo2rate preparations 3are not necessary. 1Life has no blessing0 like a prudent frie2nd. 3There is nought bett0er than to be 2With noble souls in 1company: 2There is nought dear1er than to wend 2With good friends fa1ithful to the end. 2This is the love who1se fruit is sweet; 2Therefore to bide th1erein is meet. 2It is not so much ou0r friends' help that2 helps 3as the confidence of1 their help. 2Friendship improves 0happiness and abates2 misery, 3by the doubling of o1ur joy and the divid2ing of our grief. 3Friendship is the sh0adow of the evening,2which increases with1 the setting sun of 2life. 3Poor is the friendle0ss master of a world2; 3a world in purchase 1of a friend is gain.2Friendship, peculiar0 boon of Heaven, 2 The noble mind's d1elight and pride, 2To men and angels on1ly given, 2 To all the lower w1orld denied. 2A friend may well be0 reckoned the master2piece of nature. 3The ornament of a ho0use is the friends w2ho frequent it. 3Friendship is the on0ly cement that will 2ever hold the 3world together. 1With true friends...0even water drunk tog2ether is sweet 3enough. 1The joys that spring0 from external assoc2iations bring pain; 3they have their begi1nnings and their end2ings. The wise man 3does not rejoice in 1them. 2Every man can tell h0ow many goats or she2ep he possesses, 3but not how many fri1ends. 2He who pursues peopl0e for what they can 2give, 3And yet pays no heed1 to those who have o2ffered much, 3Is like the man who 1thinks only of the b2utter to come, 3And pays no heed to 1what has already bee2n churned. 3Friends are thieves 0of time. 2He that wants money,0 means, and content 2is without three goo1d friends. 2Whenever Fortune sen0ds Disasters to our 2Dearest Friends, 3Although we outwardl1y may grieve, 2We oft are laughing 1in our sleeve. 2There have been fewe0r friends on earth t2han kings. 3Nothing more dangero0us than a friend wit2hout discretion; 3even a prudent enemy1 is preferable. 2If all men knew what0 each said of the ot2her, there would 3not be four friends 1in the world. 2An open foe may prov0e a curse, 2But a pretended frie1nd is worse. 2The most fatal disea0se of friendship is 2gradual decay, 3or dislike hourly in1creased by causes to2o slender for 3complaint, and too n1umerous for removal.2Give me the avowed, 0the erect, and manly2 foe, 3Bold I can meet, per1haps may turn the bl2ow; 3But of all plagues, 1good Heaven, thy wra2th can send, 3Save, save, oh save 1me from the candid f2riend! 3The most violent fri0endships soonest wea2r themselves out. 3Our very best friend0s have a tincture of2 jealousy even 3in their friendship;1 and when they hear 2us praised by others3will ascribe it to s1inister and interest2ed motives if they 3can. 1Rely on your own Sel0f, your own inner sp2iritual strength. 3Stand on your own fe1et. Do not depend o2n money, friends or 3any one. When the f1riends are put to te2st, they will desert3you. 1People become friend0s and enemies from c2onsideration of gain3and loss. Self-inte1rest plays a very pr2ominent part. Self-3interest is very pow1erful. It can turn 2a friend into an 3enemy in no time and1 an enemy also into 2a friend. There is 3no such thing in exi1stence as a friend o2r an enemy. 3Friendship of offici0als... 2Thin as their papers1. 2Expect not a friends0hip with him who hat2h injured thee: 3he who suffereth the1 wrong, may forgive 2it; but he who doth 3it never will it be 1well with him. 2Friends are as compa0nions on a journey, 2who ought to aid 3each other to persev1ere in the road to a2 happier life. 3A good friend who po0ints out mistakes an2d imperfections 3and rebukes evil is 1to be respected as i2f he reveals a 3secret of hidden tre1asure. 2Be more prompt to go0 to a friend in adve2rsity 3than in prosperity. 1Never contract frien0dship with a man tha2t is not better 3than thyself. 1Join the company of 0lions rather than as2sume 3the lead among foxes1. 2Be slow to fall into0 friendship; but whe2n thou art in, 3continue firm and co1nstant. 2Do not have evil-doe0rs for friends, 2 do not have low pe1ople for friends: 2have virtuous people1 for friends, 2 have for friends t1he best of men. 2Foresake not an old 0friend, for the new 2is not comparable 3unto him. A new fri1end is as new wine: 2 when it is 3old thou shalt drink1 it with pleasure. 2Reprove your friends0 in secret, praise t2hem openly. 3Purchase not friends0 by gifts; when thou2 ceasest to 3give, such will ceas1e to love. 2It is more shameful 0to distrust our frie2nds than to be 3deceived by them. 1Be not the fourth fr0iend of him who had 2three before 3and lost them. 1Friendship requires 0deeds. 2Go often to the hous0e of thy friend, 2weeds choke the unus1ed path. 2The only way to have0 a friend is to be o2ne. 3One of the surest ev0idences of friendshi2p that one 3individual can displ1ay to another is tel2ling him gently of a3fault. If any other1 can excel it, it is2 listening to such a3disclosure with grat1itude, and amending 2the error. 3Never do a wrong thi0ng to make a friend 2or to keep one. 3A man cannot be said0 to succeed in this 2life 3who does not satisfy1 one friend. 2If a friend is in tr0ouble, don't annoy h2im by asking if 3there is anything yo1u can do. Think up 2something 3appropriate and do i1t. 2Do not use a hatchet0 to remove a fly fro2m your friend's 3forehead. 1Two friends, two bod0ies with one soul in2spired. 3The amity that wisdo0m knits not, folly m2ay easily untie. 3Then come the wild w0eather, come sleet o2r come snow, 3We will stand by eac1h other, however it 2blow. 3There are three fait0hful friends: an ol2d wife, an old dog, 3and ready money. 1Not until you become0 a stranger to yours2elf 3Will you be able to 1make acquaintance wi2th the Friend. 3Friendship is no pla0nt of hasty growth; 2Tho' planted in este1em's deep fixed soil2, 3The gradual culture 1of kind intercourse 2Must bring it to per1fection. 2Nothing so fortifies0 a friendship as a b2elief on the part 3of one friend that h1e is superior to the2 other. 3A day for toil, an h0our for sport, 2but for a friend is 1life too short. 2Yes, we must ever be0 friends; 2and of all who offer1 you friendship 2Let me be ever the f1irst, the truest, 2the nearest and dear1est! 2The holy passion of 0Friendship is of so 2sweet and steady 3and loyal and enduri1ng a nature that it 2will last through 3a whole lifetime, if1 not asked to lend m2oney. 3Instead of loving yo0ur enemies, 2treat your friends b1etter. 2He hasn't an enemy i0n the world, 2and none of his frie1nds like him. 2There are some peopl0e who are very resou2rceful 3At being remorseful,1And who apparently f1eel the best way to 2make friends 3Is to do something t1errible and then mak2e amends. 3Creativity comes fro0m awakening and dire2cting men's higher 3natures, which origi1nate in the primal d2epths of the uni- 3verse and are appoin1ted by Heaven. 2Genius is eternal pa0tience. 2Imagination is the e0ye of the soul. 2Genius is essentiall0y creative; 2it bears the stamp o1f the individual who2 possesses it. 3Genius is the power 0of lighting one's ow2n fire. 3Genius is a promonto0ry jutting out into 2the infinite. 3Originality is simpl0y a pair of fresh ey2es. 3Genius is initiative0 on fire. 2Genius always gives 0its best at first; p2rudence, at last. 3It is the great triu0mph of genius to mak2e the common appear 3novel. 1Genius does what it 0must, talent does wh2at it can. 3Talent repeats, geni0us creates. 2Talent is a cistern;1 genius a fountain. 2Nature is the master0 of talents; 2genius is the master1 of nature. 2Genius makes its obs0ervations in short-h2and; 3talent writes them o1ut at length. 2Doing easily what ot0hers find difficult 2is talent; 3doing what is imposs1ible for talent is g2enius. 3To do great work a m0an must be very idle2as well as very indu1strious. 2Inventing is a combi0nation of brains and2 materials. 3The more brains you 1use, the less materi2al you need. 3Talent is what you p0ossess; genius is wh2at possesses you. 3Genius must be born,0 and never can be ta2ught. 3When a true genius a0ppears in the world 2you may know him by 3this sign, that the 1dunces are all in co2nfederacy against 3him. 1The merit of great m0en is not understood2, but by those who 3are formed to be suc1h themselves; genius2 speaks only to 3genius. 1Genius is independen0t of situation. 2Everyone is a genius0 at least once a yea2r; 3a real genius has hi1s original ideas clo2ser together. 3Everything has been 0thought of before, b2ut the problem is 3to think of it again1. 2The lamp of genius b0urns quicker than th2e lamp of life. 3Talent, lying in the0 understanding, is o2ften inherited; 3genius, being the ac1tion of reason and i2magination, 3rarely or never. 1Genius is the gold i0n the mine; 2talent is the miner 1who works and brings2 it out. 3Great geniuses have 0the shortest biograp2hies. 3Their cousins can te1ll you nothing about2 them. 3There are geniuses i0n trade as well as i2n war, or state, 3or letters; and the 1reason why this or t2hat man is fortunate3is not to be told. 1It lies in the man: 2 that is all anybody3can tell you about i1t. 2To believe your own 0thought, to believe 2that what is true 3for you in your priv1ate heart is true fo2r all men - that is 3genius. 1He is the greatest a0rtist who has embodi2ed, in the sum of 3his works, the great1est number of the gr2eatest ideas. 3Genius - To know wit0hout having learned;2to draw just conclus1ions from unknown pr2emises; 3to discern the soul 1of things. 2Genius is one per ce0nt inspiration and n2inety-nine 3per cent perspiratio1n. 2True genius resides 0in the capacity for 2evaluation of 3uncertain, hazardous1, and conflicting in2formation. 3The principal mark o0f genius is not perf2ection but 3originality, the ope1ning of new frontier2s. 3The honors of genius0 are eternal. 2There is no genius f0ree from some tinctu2re of madness. 3The poets' scrolls w0ill outlive the monu2ments of stone. 3Genius survives; all1 else is claimed by 2death. 3Imagination disposes0 of everything; it c2reates beauty, 3justice, and happine1ss, which is everyth2ing in this world. 3The first and last t0hing required of gen2ius is the love 3of truth. 1Imagination rules th0e world. 2The drafts which tru0e genius draws upon 2posterity, although 3they may not always 1be honored so soon a2s they are due, are 3sure to be paid with1 compound interest i2n the end. 3All good things whic0h exist are the frui2ts of originality. 3Dead he is not, but 0departed, - for the 2artist never dies. 3Imagination is more 0important than knowl2edge. 3There is the happine0ss which comes from 2creative effort. 3The joy of dreaming,1 creating, building,2 whether in painting3a picture, writing a1n epic, singing a so2ng, composing a 3symphony, devising n1ew invention, creati2ng a vast industry. 3Work is the great re1deemer. It has ther2apeutic value. It 3brings happiness. 1Geniuses are the luc0kiest of mortals bec2ause what they must 3do is the same as wh1at they most want to2 do. 3If people knew how h0ard I have to work t2o gain my mastery 3it wouldn't seem won1derful at all. 2Originality is nothi0ng but judicious imi2tation. 3The richest genius, 0like the most fertil2e soil, when 3uncultivated, shoots1 up into the rankest2 weeds. 3He who has imaginati0on without learning 2has wings but no fee1t. 2Fortune has rarely c0ondescended to be th2e companion 3of genius. 1The imagination is o0f so delicate a text2ure that even words 3wound it. 1In every work of gen0ius we recognize our2 own rejected 3thoughts; they come 1back to us with a ce2rtain alienated 3majesty. 1The artists must be 0sacrificed to their 2art. Like the bees,3they must put their 1lives into the sting2 they give. 3Talent is often to b0e envied, and genius2 very commonly to be3pitied. It stands t1wice the chance of t2he other of dying in3a hospital, in jail,1 in debt, in bad rep2ute. It is a 3perpetual insult to 1mediocrity; its ever2y word is a 3trespass against som1ebody's vested ideas2. 3For precocity some g0reat price is always2 demanded sooner or 3later in life. 1Genius and its rewar0ds are briefly told:2A liberal nature and1 a niggardly doom, 2A difficult journey 1to a splendid tomb. 2Genius unexerted is 0no more genius than 2a bushel of acorns 3is a forest of oaks.1Men of genius are of0ten dull and inert i2n society, as a 3blazing meteor when 1it descends to earth2, is only a stone. 3Genius may be almost0 defined as the facu2lty of acquiring 3poverty. 1In the republic of m0ediocrity, genius is2 dangerous. 3The public is wonder0fully tolerant. 2It forgives everythi1ng except genius. 2Beware of dissipatin0g your powers; striv2e constantly to 3concentrate them. G1enius thinks it can 2do whatever it sees 3others doing, but it1 is sure to repent e2very ill-judged 3outlay. 1For a man to achieve0 all that is demande2d of him 3he must regard himse1lf as greater than h2e is. 3The three indispensa0bles of genius are u2nderstanding, feel- 3ing, and perseveranc1e. The three things2 that enrich genius 3are contentment of m1ind, the cherishing 2of good thoughts, 3and exercising the m1emory. 2Where we cannot inve0nt, we may at least 2improve; 3we may give somewhat1 of novelty to that 2which was old; 3condensation to that1 which was diffuse, 2perspicuity to that 3which was obscure, a1nd currency to that 2which was recondite.3The human body is th0e magazine of invent2ions, the patent 3office, where are th1e models from which 2every hint is 3taken. All the tool1s and engines on ear2th are only 3extensions of its li1mbs and senses. 2Only an inventor kno0ws how to borrow, an2d every man is 3or should be an inve1ntor. 2Every man who observ0es vigilantly and re2solves steadfastly 3grows unconsciously 1into genius. 2The lunatic, the lov0er and the poet 2Are of imagination a1ll compact. 2Sometimes men come b0y the name of genius2 in the same way 3that certain insects1 come by the name of2 centipede - 3not because they hav1e a hundred feet, bu2t because most 3people can't count a1bove fourteen. 2If we can advance pr0opositions both true2 and new, these are 3our own by right of 1discovery; and if we2 can repeat what 3is old, more briefly1 and brightly than o2thers, this also 3becomes our own, by 1right of conquest. 2Genius lasts longer 0than Beauty. That a2ccounts for the fact3that we all take suc1h pains to over-educ2ate ourselves. 3Originality does not0 consist in saying w2hat no one has 3ever said before, bu1t in saying exactly 2what you think 3yourself. 1When I am finishing 0a picture I hold God2 a made object up to3it - a rock, a flowe1r, the branch of a t2ree or my hand - as 3a kind of final test1. If the painting s2tands up beside a 3thing man cannot mak1e, the painting is a2uthentic. If 3there's a clash betw1een the two, it is b2ad art. 3Every good act is ch0arity. A man's true2 wealth hereafter 3is the good that he 1does in this world t2o his fellows. 3Goodness is beauty i0n its best estate. 2Kindness is the gold0en chain by which so2ciety is bound 3together. 1An act of goodness i0s of itself an act o2f happiness. 3No reward coming aft1er the event can com2pare with the 3sweet reward that we1nt with it. 2Goodness is love in 0action. It is noble2 to be good. 3Goodness is the grea1test virtue. Every 2good deed is a grain3of seed for immortal1ity or eternal life.2The higher the sun a0riseth, the less sha2dow doth he cast; 3even so the greater 1is the goodness, the2 less doth it 3covet praise; yet ca1nnot avoid its rewar2ds in honours. 3If you wish to be go0od, first believe th2at you are bad. 3He who receives a go0od turn should never2 forget it; 3he who does one shou1ld never remember it2. 3Good and evil, we kn0ow, in the field of 2this world grow up 3together almost inse1parably. 2Whatever mitigates t0he woes or increases2 the happiness of 3others - this is my 1criterion of goodnes2s. 3And whatever injures1 society at large, o2r any individual, 3in it - this is my m1easure of iniquity. 2A good person can pu0t himself in the pla2ce of a bad person 3more easily than a b1ad person can put hi2mself in the place 3of a good person. 1He that is good will0 infallibly become b2etter, and he that 3is bad will as certa1inly become worse; f2or vice, virtue, 3and time are three t1hings that never sta2nd still. 3We are rich only thr0ough what we give, 2and poor only throug1h what we refuse. 2As the purpose is em0ptied the heart is f2illed. 3Giving is true havin0g. 2Kindness is a langua0ge which the deaf ca2n hear and the blind3can read. 1Should not the giver0 be thankful that th2e receiver received?3Is not giving a need1? Is not receiving,2 mercy? 3If you always give 0You will always have1. 2As the branches of a0 tree return their s2ap to the root, from3whence it arose; as 1a river poureth its 2streams to the sea, 3whence its spring wa1s supplied; so the h2eart of a grateful 3man delighteth in re1turning a benefit re2ceived. 3Heaven endows man wi0th innate goodness. 2Instinctive devotion1 to this spirit lead2s to success, 3though conscious pur1pose jeopardizes nat2ure's innocence. 3But even with instin1ctive sincerity, 2action must be in ac1cord with the will o2f heaven. 3The highest goodness0 is like water. 2Water benefits all t1hings and does not c2ompete. 3It stays in the lowl1y places which other2s despise. 3Therefore it is near1 The Eternal. 2That gift which is g0iven out of duty, at2 the proper time 3and place, to a wort1hy person, and witho2ut expectation of 3return, is considere1d to be charity in t2he mode of goodness.3A real man is he who0se goodness is a par2t of himself. 3Wherever there is a 0human being there is2 an opportunity 3for a kindness. 1Confidence in the go0odness of another is2 good proof of 3one's own goodness. 1I have found men mor0e kind than I expect2ed, and less just. 3As freely as the fir0mament embraces the 2world, 3or the sun pours for1th impartially his b2eams, 3so mercy must encirc1le both friend and f2oe. 3No good book, or goo0d thing of any sort,2shows its best face 1at first. 2There is many a good0 man to be found und2er a shabby hat. 3As the rose breathet0h sweetness from its2 own nature, 3so the heart of a be1nevolent man produce2th good works. 3Kindness in words cr0eates confidence. 2Kindness in thinking1 creates profoundnes2s. 3Kindness in giving c1reates love. 2Loving kindness is g0reater than laws; 2and the charities of1 life are more than 2all ceremonies. 3Kindness gives birth0 to kindness. 2Just as a man who ha0s long been far away2 is welcomed with 3joy on his safe retu1rn by his relatives,2 well-wishers and 3friends; in the same1 way the good works 2of a man in his 3life welcome him in 1another life, with t2he joy of a friend 3meeting a friend on 1his return. 2A good disposition I0 far prefer to gold;2for gold is the gift1 of fortune; 2goodness of disposit1ion is the gift of n2ature. 3I prefer much rather1 to be called good t2han fortunate. 3Men in no way approa0ch so nearly to the 2gods 3as in doing good to 1men. 2Charity suffereth lo0ng and is kind; char2ity envieth not; 3charity vaunteth not1 itself, is not puff2ed up. 3If you disclose your0 alms, even then it 2is well done, 3but if you keep them1 secret, and give th2em to the poor, 3then that is better 1still for you; 2and this wipes off f1rom you some of your2 evil deeds. 3If you lend money, i0t is uncertain 2 Whether you shall 1be repaid; 2But if you bestow al1ms, though they be s2mall, 3 Your return will b1e a hundred-fold. 2Among the attributes0 of God, although th2ey are all equal, 3mercy shines with ev1en more brilliancy t2han justice. 3Of all virtues and d0ignities of the mind2, 3goodness is the grea1test, being the char2acter of the Deity; 3and without it, man 1is a busy, mischievo2us, wretched thing. 3It is heaven upon ea0rth to have a man's 2mind move in 3charity, rest in pro1vidence and turn upo2n the poles 3of truth. 1Good, the more commu0nicated, more abunda2nt grows. 3Kindness in ourselve0s is the honey that 2blunts the sting 3of unkindness in ano1ther. 2A kind heart is a fo0untain of gladness, 2making everything in1 its vicinity freshe2n into smiles. 3He who loves goodnes0s harbors angels, re2veres reverence, 3and lives with God. 1Wise sayings often f0all on barren ground2; 3but a kind word is n1ever thrown away. 2Goodness is the only0 investment which ne2ver fails. 3No man or woman of t0he humblest sort can2 really be strong, 3gentle and good, wit1hout the world being2 better for it, 3without somebody bei1ng helped and comfor2ted by the very 3existence of that go1odness. 2Charity performed at0 an improper place a2nd time and given to3unworthy persons wit1hout respect and wit2h contempt is 3charity in the mode 1of ignorance. 2It is not goodness t0o be better than the2 very worst. 3With gifts, you may 0gather your enemies 2about you. 3When giving nothing,1 even your own famil2y will leave. 3I know and love the 0good, yet ah! the w2orst pursue. 3There is no man so g0ood who, were he to 2submit all his 3thoughts and actions1 to the law, whould 2not deserve 3hanging ten times in1 his life. 2No man deserves to b0e praised for his go2odness unless he has3the strength of char1acter to be wicked. 2 All other goodness 3is generally nothing1 but indolence or im2potence of will. 3The spirit of the wo0rld has four kinds o2f spirits 3diametrically oppose1d to charity: resen2tment, aversion, 3jealousy, and indiff1erence. 2Look around the habi0table world, how few2Know their own good,1 or knowing it, purs2ue. 3Better is the enemy 0of good. 2He who waits to do a0 great deal of good 2at once, 3will never do anythi1ng. 2Posthumous charities0 are the very essenc2e of selfishness 3when bequethed by th1ose who, even alive,2 would part with 3nothing. 1I hate the giving of0 the hand unless the2 whole man 3accompanies it. 1If you're naturally 0kind, you attract a 2lot of people you 3don't like. 1Let the stronger man0 give to the man who2se need is greater; 3let him gaze upon th1e lengthening path o2f life. For riches 3roll like the wheels1 of a chariot, turni2ng from one to 3another. 1All strangers and be0ggars are from God, 2and a gift, though s1mall, is precious. 2Be good, be kind, be0 humane, and charita2ble; love your 3fellows; console the1 afflicted; pardon t2hose who have 3done you wrong. 1Treat those who are 0good with goodness, 2And also treat those1 who are not good wi2th goodness. 3 Thus goodness is a1ttained. 2Be honest to those w1ho are honest, 2And be also honest t1o those who are not 2honest. 3 Thus honesty is at1tained... 2Love thy neighbor as0 thyself: Do not to2 others what thou 3wouldst not wish be 1done to thyself: Fo2rgive injuries. 3Forgive thy enemy, b1e reconciled to him,2 give him 3assistance, invoke G1od in his behalf. 2Make haste and do wh0at is good; 2keep your mind away 1from evil. 2If a man is slow in 1doing good, 2his mind finds pleas1ure in evil. 2It is kindness to im0mediately refuse 2what you intend to d1eny. 2We should give as we0 would receive, chee2rfully, quickly, and3without hesitation; 1for there is no grac2e in a benefit that 3sticks to the finger1s. 2Ask thyself, daily, 0to how many ill-mind2ed persons thou hast3shown a kind disposi1tion. 2Do all the good you 0can, By all the mean2s you can, 3In all the ways you 1can, In all the plac2es you can, 3At all the times you1 can, To all the peo2ple you can, 3As long as ever you 1can. 2Do good to thy Frien0d to keep him, 2 to thy enemy to ga1in him. 2To cultivate kindnes0s is a valuable part2 of the business 3of life. 1Be charitable and in0dulgent to every one2 but thyself. 3To be good, we must 0do good; and by doin2g good we take a 3sure means of being 1good, as the use and2 exercise of the 3muscles increase the1ir power. 2There is so much goo0d in the worst of us2, 3And so much bad in t1he best of us, 2That it hardly becom1es any of us 2To talk about the re1st of us. 2Goodness is the race0 which God hath set 2him to run, and 3happiness the goal; 1which none can arriv2e at till he hath 3finished his course,1 and received his cr2own in the mansions 3of eternity. 1Of all that is good,0 sublimity is suprem2e. 3Succeeding is the co1ming together of all2 that is beautiful. 3Furtherance is the a1greement of all that2 is just. 3Perseverance is the 1foundation of all ac2tions. 3Never are noble spir0its 2Poor while their lik1e survive; 2Pure love has gems t1o render, 2And virtue wealth to1 give. 2Never is lost or was1ted 2The goodness of the 1good... 2Prayer carries us ha0lf-way to God, fasti2ng brings us to the 3door of his palace, 1and alms-giving proc2ures us admission. 3The desire of power 0in excess caused the2 angels to fall; 3the desire of knowle1dge in excess caused2 man to fall; 3but in charity there1 is no excess, 2neither can angel or1 man come in danger 2by it. 3That best portion of0 a good man's life, 2His little nameless,1 unremembered acts 2Of kindness and of l1ove. 2He was so good he wo0uld pour rose-water 2on a toad. 3There is dew in one 0flower and not in an2other, because one 3opens its cup and ta1kes it in, while the2 other closes 3itself, and the drop1s run off. God rain2s His goodness and 3mercy as widespread 1as the dew, and if w2e lack them, it is 3because we will not 1open our hearts to r2eceive them. 3If I knew...that a m0an was coming to my 2house with the 3conscious design of 1doing me good, I sho2uld run for my life.3For the cause that l0acks 2The wrong that needs1 resistance, 2For the future in th1e distance, 2And the good that I 1can do. 2There's no dearth of0 kindness 2 In this world of o1urs; 2Only in our blindnes1s 2 We gather thorns f1or flowers. 2Let not the fierce s0un dry one tear of p2ain before thyself 3hast wiped it from t1he sufferer's eye. 2Life is mostly froth0 and bubble; 2two things stand lik1e stone: 2kindness in another'1s trouble, 2courage in our own. 1The word good has ma0ny meanings. For ex2ample, if a man were3to shoot his grandmo1ther at a range of f2ive hundred yards, 3I should call him a 1good shot, but not n2ecessarily a good 3man. 1One may not doubt th0at, somehow Good 2Shall come of Water 1and of Mud; 2And sure, the revere1nt eye must see 2A purpose in Liquidi1ty. 2All men's gains are 0the fruit of venturi2ng. 3Growth is the only e0vidence of life. 2Spring - An experien0ce in immortality. 2Youth is a quality, 0not a matter of circ2umstances. 3The way of heaven is0 to diminish the pro2sperous and 3augment the needy. 1The superior man gai2ns without boasting.3Youth is the best ti0me to be rich, 2and the best time to1 be poor. 2He who seeks for gai0n, must be at some e2xpense. 3Sometimes the best g0ain is to lose. 2Youth, what man's ag0e is like to be, dot2h show; 3We may our ends by o1ur beginnings know. 2An old young man, wi0ll be a young old ma2n. 3Progress has not fol0lowed a straight asc2ending line, 3but a spiral with rh1ythms of progress an2d retrogression, 3of evolution and dis1solution. 2Every street has two0 sides, the shady si2de and the sunny. 3When two men shake h1ands and part, mark 2which of the two 3takes the sunny side1; he will be the you2nger man of the two.3The art of progress 0is to preserve order2 amid change 3and to preserve chan1ge amid order. 2Climb mountains to s0ee lowlands. 2Every phase of evolu0tion commences by be2ing in a state of 3unstable force and p1roceeds through orga2nization to 3equilibrium. Equili1brium having been ac2hieved, no further 3development is possi1ble without once mor2e oversetting the 3stability and passin1g through a phase of2 contending forces. 3A tree trunk the siz0e of a man 2grows from a blade a1s thin as a hair. 2A tower nine stories1 high 2is built from a smal1l heap of earth. 2A journey of a thous1and miles 2starts in front of y1our feet. 2Whosoever acts spoil1s it. 2Whosoever keeps lose1s it. 2Youth holds no socie0ty with grief. 2Childhood shows the 0man, as morning show2s the day. 3Just as the twig is 0bent the tree is inc2lined. 3At 20 years of age t0he will reigns; 2At 30 the wit; 1At 40 the judgment. 1Everyone believes in0 his youth that the 2world really began 3with him, and that a1ll merely exists for2 his sake. 3Youth is to all the 0glad season of life;2 but often only by 3what it hopes, not b1y what it attains, o2r what it escapes. 3If spring came but o0nce in a century, in2stead of once a 3year, or burst forth1 with the sound of a2n earthquake, and 3not in silence, what1 wonder and expectat2ion there would be 3in all hearts to beh1old the miraculous c2hange! 3All growth depends u0pon activity. There2 is no development 3physically or intell1ectually without eff2ort, and effort 3means work. 1The evolution of man0 is the evolution of2 his consciousness, 3 and 'consciousness1' cannot evolve unco2nsciously. 3The evolution of man1 is the evolution of2 his will, 3 and 'will' cannot 1evolve involuntarily2. 3The evolution of man1 is the evolution of2 his power of doing,3 and 'doing' cannot1 be the result of th2ings which 'happen.'3All progress has res0ulted from people wh2o took unpopular 3positions. 1The purpose of learn0ing is growth, and o2ur minds, unlike 3our bodies, can cont1inue growing as we c2ontinue to live. 3Enough shovels of ea0rth.................2.........a mountain.3Enough pails of wate1r...................2............a river.3Those who have high 0thoughts are ever st2riving; 3they are not happy t1o remain in the same2 place. 3Like swans that leav1e their lake and ris2e into the air, 3they leave their hom1e and fly for a high2er home. 3That age is best whi0ch is the first 2When youth and blood1 are warmer. 2Sweet spring, full o0f sweet days and ros2es, 3a box where sweets c1ompacted lie. 2The morning hour has0 gold in its mouth. 2The morning of life 0is like the dawn of 2day, 3full of purity, of i1magery, and harmony.2Youth, with swift fe0et, walks onward in 2the way; 3the land of joy lies1 all before his eyes2. 3Youth is the trustee0 of prosperity. 2The morning pouring 0everywhere, its gold2en glory on the air.3How beautiful is you0th! how bright it g2leams 3with its illusions, 1aspirations, dreams!2Book of Beginnings, 1Story without End, 2Each maid a heroine,1 and each man a frie2nd! 3The grandest of all 0laws is the law of p2rogressive 3development. Under 1it, in the wide swee2p of things, men 3grow wiser as they g1row older, and socie2ties better. 3The need of expansio0n is as genuine an i2nstinct in man as 3the need in a plant 1for the light, or th2e need in man 3himself for going up1right...The love of 2liberty is simply 3the instinct in man 1for expansion. 2An evil gain equals 0a loss. 2It is the failing of0 youth not to be abl2e to restrain its 3own violence. 1Youthful rashness sk0ips like a hare over2 the meshes of 3good counsel. 1The greatest part of0 mankind employ thei2r first years 3to make their last m1iserable. 2No gain without pain0s. 2The self-conceit of 0the young is the gre2at source of those 3dangers to which the1y are exposed. 2Everybody wants to b0e somebody; nobody w2ants to grow. 3Spring makes everyth0ing young again exce2pt man. 3Consider what heavy 0responsibility lies 2upon you in your 3youth, to determine,1 among realities, by2 what you will be 3delighted, and, amon1g imaginations, by w2hose you will be 3led. 1Unless a tree has bo0rne blossoms in spri2ng, 3you will vainly look1 for fruit on it in 2autumn. 3Growing is not easy,0 plain sailing busin2ess that it is 3commonly supposed to1 be: it is hard wor2k - harder than any 3but a growing boy ca1n understand; it req2uires attention, 3and you are not stro1ng enough to attend 2to your bodily 3growth and to your l1essons too. 2Within the earth, wo0od grows: 2The image of Pushing1 Upward. 2Thus the superior ma1n of devoted charact2er 3Heaps up small thing1s 2In order to achieve 1something high and g2reat. 3The perfecting of on0e's self is the fund2amental base of all 3progress and all mor1al development. 2As I approve of a yo0uth that has somethi2ng of the old man 3in him, so I am no l1ess pleased with an 2old man that has 3something of the you1th. He that follows2 this rule may be 3old in body, but can1 never be so in mind2. 3Let this be an examp0le for the acquisiti2on of all knowledge,3virtue, and riches. 1 By the fall of drop2s of water, by 3degrees, a pot is fi1lled. 2By depending on the 0great, 2The small may rise h1igh. 2See: the little pla1nt ascending the tal2l tree 3Has climbed to the t1op. 2The true way to gain0 much, is never to d2esire to gain too 3much. He is not ric1h that possesses muc2h, but he that 3covets no more; and 1he is not poor that 2enjoys little, but 3he that wants too mu1ch. 2Everywhere in life, 0the true question is2 not what we gain, 3but what we do. 1The heights by great0 men reached and kep2t 3Were not attained by1 sudden flight, 2But they, while thei1r companions slept, 2Were toiling upward 1in the night. 2...all good growth i0s slow growth. 2A change of being ca0nnot be brought abou2t by any rites. 3Rites can only mark 1an accomplished tran2sition. And it is 3only in pseudo-esote1ric systems in which2 there is nothing 3else except these ri1tes, that they begin2 to attribute to 3the rites an indepen1dent meaning...Inner2 growth, a change 3of being, depends en1tirely upon the work2 which a man must do3on himself. 1The key to growth is0 the introduction of2 higher dimensions 3of consciousness int1o our awareness. 2 The spark hangs0 from the flame by t2he finest thread of 3eternal vital power.1 It journeys throug2h the Seven Worlds 3of illusion. It sto1ps in the first, and2 is a metal and a 3stone; it passes int1o the second and beh2old - a plant; 3the plant whirls thr1ough seven changes a2nd becomes a sacred 3animal. From the co1mbined attributes of2 these, the thinker 3is formed... 1The Breath becomes a0 stone; the stone, a2 plant; the plant, 3an animal; the anima1l, a man; the man, a2 spirit; and the 3spirit, a god. 1In saffron-colored m0antle, from the tide2s of ocean rose 3the morning to bring1 light to gods and m2en. 3For lo, the winter i0s past, the rain is 2over and gone; 3the flowers appear o1n the earth; the tim2e of the singing 3of birds is come, an1d the voice of the t2urtledove is heard 3in our land. 1Yet Ah, that Spring 0should vanish with t2he Rose. 3 That Youth's sweet1-scented manuscript 2should close! 3The Nightingale that1 in the branches san2g 3 Ah whence and whit1her flown again, who2 knows? 3As when the golden s0un salutes the morn,2And, having gilt the1 ocean with his beam2s, 3Gallops the zodiac i1n his glistering coa2ch, 3And overlooks the hi1ghest-peering hills.2See! led by Morn, w0ith dewy feet, 2Apollo mounts his go1lden seat, 2 Replete with seven1-fold fire; 2While, dazzled by hi1s conquering light, 2Heaven's glittering 1host and awful night2 Submissively retir1e. 2The morn is up again0, the dewy morn, 2with breath all ince1nse, and with cheek 2all bloom, 3laughing the clouds 1away with playful sc2orn, 3and glowing into day1. 2I was always an earl0y riser. Happy the 2man who is! Every 3morning day comes to1 him with a virgin's2 love, full of 3bloom and freshness.1 The youth of natur2e is contagious, 3like the gladness of1 a happy child. 2An acorn is not an o0ak tree when it is s2prouted. It must go3through long summers1 and fierce winters;2 it has to endure 3all that frost and s1now and side-strikin2g winds can bring 3before it is a full 1grown oak. These ar2e rough teachers; 3but rugged schoolmas1ters make rugged pup2ils. So a man is 3not a man when he is1 created; he is only2 begun. His manhood3must come with years1. 2All common things, e0ach day's events, 2 That with the hour1 begin and end, 2Our pleasures and ou1r discontents, 2 Are rounds by whic1h we may ascend. 2There is no time lik0e Spring, 2When life's alive in1 everything, 2Before new nestlings1 sing, 2Before cleft swallow1s speed their journe2y back 3Along the trackless 1track. 2When the hounds of s0pring are on winter'2s traces, 3The mother of months1 in meadow or plain 2Fill the shadows and1 windy places 2With lisp of leaves 1and ripple of rain. 2Slow buds the pink d0awn like a rose 2 From out night's g1ray and cloudy sheat2h; 3Softly and still it 1grows and grows, 2 Petal by petal, le1af by leaf. 2When I am grown to m0an's estate 2I shall be very prou1d and great. 2And tell the other g1irls and boys 2Not to meddle with m1y toys. 2Why build these citi0es glorious 2 If man unbuilded g1oes? 2In vain we build the1 world unless 2 The builder also g1rows. 2The splendid discont0ent of God 2 With chaos, made t1he world... 2And from the discont1ent of man 2 The world's best p1rogress springs. 2I sing the first gre0en leaf upon the bou2gh, 3 The tiny kindling 1flame of emerald fir2e, 3The stir amid the ro1ots of reeds, and ho2w 3 The sap will flush1 the briar. 2Where there is joy t0here is creation. W2here there is no joy3there is no creation1: know the nature o2f joy. 3Happiness is unrepen0ted pleasure. 2Happiness is the abs0ence of the striving2 for happiness. 3Happiness is the lig0ht on the water. 2The water is cold an1d dark and deep. 2Happiness consists m0ore in small conveni2ences of pleasures 3that occur every day1, than in great piec2es of good fortune 3that happen but seld1om to a man in the c2ourse of his life. 3Happiness is not bei0ng pained in body or2 troubled in mind. 3Happiness? That's n0othing more than goo2d health and a poor 3memory. 1Happiness is the int0erval between period2s of unhappiness. 3Contentment is natur0al wealth; luxury, a2rtificial poverty. 3The nonpermanent app0earance of happiness2 and distress, and 3their disappearance 1in due course, are l2ike the appearance 3and disappearance of1 summer and winter s2easons. 3A highly learned man0 has two sources of 2happiness: 3 Either he abandons1 all earthly interes2ts 3 Or else he possess1es much which could 2be abandoned. 3Contentment consiste0th not in adding mor2e fuel, 3but in taking away s1ome fire. 2False happiness rend0ers men stern and pr2oud, 3 and that happiness1 is never communicat2ed. 3True happiness rende1rs them kind and sen2sible, 3 and that happiness1 is always shared. 2The most happy man i0s he who knows how t2o bring into 3relation the end and1 beginning of his li2fe. 3There is this differ0ence between happine2ss and wisdom, 3that he that thinks 1himself the happiest2 man really is so; 3but he that thinks h1imself the wisest is2 generally the 3greatest fool. 1The foolish man seek0s happiness in the d2istance; 3The wise grows it un1der his feet. 2The bringers of joy 0have always been the2 children of sorrow.3Happiness is like a 0sunbeam, which the l2east shadow 3intercepts, while ad1versity is often as 2the rain of spring. 3Indecision regarding0 the choice among pl2easures temporarily 3robs a man of inner 1peace. After due re2flection, he attains3joy by turning away 1from the lower pleas2ures and seeking the3higher ones. 1We think a happy lif0e consists in tranqu2ility of mind. 3You traverse the wor0ld in search of happ2iness, 3which is within the 1reach of every man. 2A contented mind con1fers it on all. 2Happiness hath he wh0o renounces this cyc2le of being, which 3is utterly unsubstan1tial and overwhelmed2 by the pains of 3birth, death, old ag1e and disease. 2Silence is the perfe0ctest herald of joy.2I were but little ha1ppy if I could say h2ow much. 3A great obstacle to 0happiness is to expe2ct too much 3happiness. 1Three grand essentia0ls to happiness in t2his life are 3something to do, som1ething to love, and 2something 3to hope for. 1If one only wished t0o be happy, this cou2ld be easily 3accomplished; but we1 wish to be happier 2than other people, 3and this is always d1ifficult, for we bel2ieve others to be 3happier than they ar1e. 2Thus happiness depen0ds, as Nature shows,2Less on exterior thi1ngs than most suppos2e. 3Our greatest happine0ss does not depend o2n the condition of 3life in which chance1 has placed us, but 2is always the result3of a good conscience1, good health, occup2ation, and freedom 3in all just pursuits1. 2Happiness is a ball 0after which we run w2herever it rolls, 3and we push it with 1our feet when it sto2ps. 3To be happy is not t0he purpose of our be2ing, 3but to deserve happi1ness. 2We are no longer hap0py as soon as we wis2h to be happier. 3Happiness grows at o0ur own firesides, 2and is not to be pic1ked in stranger's ga2rdens. 3Tranquil pleasures l0ast the longest; 2we are not fitted to1 bear long the burde2n of great joys. 3Objects we ardently 0pursue bring little 2happiness when 3gained; most of our 1pleasures come from 2unexpected sources. 3Be it jewel or toy, 0Not the prize gives 1the joy, 2But the striving to 1win the prize. 2It is not how much w0e have, but how much2 we enjoy, 3that makes happiness1. 2The greatest happine0ss you can have is k2nowing that you do 3not necessarily requ1ire happiness. 2Thousands of candles0 can be lighted from2 a single candle, 3and the life of the 1candle will not be s2hortened. 3Happiness never decr1eases by being share2d. 3Better than power ov0er all the earth, be2tter than going to 3heaven and better th1an dominion over the2 worlds is the joy 3of the man who enter1s the river of life 2that leads to 3Non-Being. 1What is there given 0by the gods 2more desirable than 1a happy hour? 2Happiness seems made0 to be shared. 2Joy descends gently 0upon us like the eve2ning dew, 3and does not patter 1down like a hailstor2m. 3Joys too exquisite t0o last, 2and yet more exquisi1te when past. 2Happiness and virtue0 rest upon each othe2r; 3the best are not onl1y the happiest, 2but the happiest are1 usually the best. 2He who has no wish t0o be happier is the 2happiest of men. 3Happiness makes up i0n height for what it2 lacks in length. 3No one can be said t0o be happy until he 2is dead. 3We take greater pain0s to persuade others2 that we are happy 3than in endeavoring 1to think so ourselve2s. 3Whoever does not reg0ard what he has as m2ost ample wealth, 3is unhappy, though h1e be master of the w2orld. 3Joys do not stay, bu0t take wing and fly 2away. 3One kind of happines0s is to know exactly2 at what point to be3miserable. 1Happiness is nothing0 if it is not known,2and very little if i1t is not envied. 2The best advice on t0he art of being happ2y is about as easy 3to follow as advice 1to be well when one 2is sick. 3There is even a happ0iness that makes the2 heart afraid. 3Unquestionably, it i0s possible to do wit2hout happiness; 3it is done involunta1rily by nineteen-twe2ntieths of mankind. 3Capacity for joy 0Admits temptation. 1The rays of happines0s, like those of lig2ht, 3are colorless when u1nbroken. 2A lifetime of happin0ess! It would be he2ll on earth. 3As the ivy twines ar0ound the oak, so do 2misery and 3misfortune encompass1 the happiness of ma2n. Felicity, 3pure and unalloyed, 1is not a plant of ea2rthly growth; 3her gardens are the 1skies. 2If thou be industrio0us to procure wealth2, be generous in 3the disposal of it. 1 Man never is so hap2py as when he giveth3happiness unto anoth1er. 2He who, before he le0aves his body, learn2s to surmount the 3promptings of desire1 and anger is a sain2t and is happy. 3Avoid greatness; in 0a cottage there may 2be more real 3happiness than kings1 or their favorites 2enjoy. 3There is only one wa0y to happiness and t2hat is to cease 3worrying about thing1s which are beyond t2he power of our 3will. 1The happiness of you0r life depends upon 2the quality of your 3thoughts: therefore1, guard accordingly,2 and take care that 3you entertain no not1ions unsuitable to v2irtue and reasonable3nature. 1Know then this truth0, enough for man to 2know 3Virtue alone is happ1iness below. 2To have joy one must0 share it. 2Happiness was born a1 twin. 2Happiness in this wo0rld, when it comes, 2comes incidentally. 3Make it the object o1f pursuit, and it le2ads us a wild-goose 3chase, and is never 1attained. 2No matter what looms0 ahead, if you can e2at today, enjoy 3the sunlight today, 1mix good cheer with 2friends today, 3enjoy it and bless G1od for it. Do not l2ook back on 3happiness - or dream1 of it in the future2. You are only 3sure of today; do no1t let yourself be ch2eated out of it. 3There is no end of c0raving. Hence conte2ntment alone is the 3best way to happines1s. Therefore, acqui2re contentment. 3The wise realizing t0hrough meditation th2e timeless Self, 3beyond all perceptio1n, deep in the cave 2of the heart 3leave pleasure and p1ain far behind. 2The man who knows he1 is neither body nor2 mind, 3but the eternal Self1, divine principle o2f existence, 3finds the source of 1all joy and lives in2 joy abiding. 3Happiness is brief. 0It will not stay. 1God batters at its s1ails. 2The loss of wealth i0s loss of dirt, 2As sages in all time1s assert; 2The happy man's with1out a shirt. 2What can be happier 0than for a man, 2conscious of virtuou1s acts, and content 2with liberty, 3to despise all human1 affairs? 2Human happiness seem0s to consist in thre2e ingredients; 3action, pleasure and1 indolence. And tho2ugh these 3ingredients ought to1 be mixed in differe2nt proportions, 3according to the dis1position of the pers2on, yet no one 3ingredient can be en1tirely wanting witho2ut destroying in 3some measure the rel1ish of the whole com2position. 3From trial he wins h0is spirits light, 2From busy day the pe1aceful night; 2Rich, from the very 1want of wealth, 2In heaven's best tre1asures - peace and h2ealth. 3Existence is a stran0ge bargain. Life ow2es us little; 3we owe it everything1. The only true hap2piness 3comes from squanderi1ng ourselves for a p2urpose. 3There's a hope for e0very woe, 2And a balm for every1 pain, 2But the first joys o1f our heart 2Come never back agai1n! 2The Greeks said gran0dly in their tragic 2phrase, 3"Let no one be calle1d happy till his dea2th;" 3 to which I would ad1d, 2"Let no one, till hi1s death be called un2happy." 3One by one (bright g0ifts from heaven) 2 Joys are sent thee1 here below; 2Take them readily wh1en given, 2 Ready, too, to let1 them go. 2All human joys are s0wift of wing, 2 For heaven doth so1 allot it; 2That when you get an1 easy thing, 2 You find you have1n't got it. 2
Very nice! Thank you for this wonderful archive. I wonder why I found it only now. Long live the BBS file archives!
This is so awesome! 😀 I’d be cool if you could download an entire archive of this at once, though.
But one thing that puzzles me is the “mtswslnkmcjklsdlsbdmMICROSOFT” string. There is an article about it here. It is definitely worth a read: http://www.os2museum.com/wp/mtswslnk/