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I know of no more encouraging fact than the unquestionable ability of a man to elevate his life by a conscious endeavor. It is something to be able to paint a particular picture, or to carve a statue, and so make a few objects beautiful; but it is far more glorious to carve and paint the very atmosphere and medium through which we look, which morally we can do.

-Thoreau.

What we like determines what we are, and is the sign of what we are; and to teach taste is inevitably to form character.

A noble deed is a step toward God.

A small drop of ink,

-Ruskin.

-J. G. Holland.

Falling, like dew, upon a thought, produces

That which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think.

-Byron.

The true worth of a man is to be measured by the objects he pursues.

self.

-Marcus Aurelius.

Friends-those relations that one makes for one's
-Deschamps.

To have joy one must share it. Happiness was born a twin.

And where we love is home,

-Byron.

Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts. The chain may lengthen, but it never parts.

-Holmes.

Every day brings a ship,

Every ship brings a word;

Well for those who have no fear,
Looking seaward well assured
That the word the vessel brings

Is the word they wish to hear.

-Emerson.

Would 'st shape a noble life? Then cast
No backward glances toward the past,

And though somewhat be lost and gone,
Yet do thou act as one new-born;
What each day needs, that shalt thou ask,
Each day will set its proper task.

-Goethe.

THE FOOL'S PRAYER.

The royal feast was done; the King Sought some new sport to banish care, And to his jester cried: "Sir Fool,

Kneel now, and make for us a prayer!"

The jester doffed his cap and bells,
And stood the mocking court before;
They could not see the bitter smile
Behind the painted grin he wore.

He bowed his head, and bent his knee
Upon the monarch's silken stool;
His pleading voice arose: "O Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"No pity, Lord, could change the heart
From red with wrong to white as wool;
The rod must heal the sin: but Lord,
Be merciful to me, a fool!

"Tis not by guilt the onward sweep

Of truth and right, O Lord, we stay; 'Tis by our follies that so long

We hold the earth from heaven away.

"These clumsy feet, still in the mire,

Go crushing blossoms without end; These hard, well-meaning hands we thrust Among the heart-strings of a friend.

"The ill-timed truth we might have keptWho knows how sharp it pierced and stung? The word we had not sense to say

Who knows how grandly it had rung?

"Our faults no tenderness should ask,

The chastening stripes must cleanse them all; But for our blunders-oh, in shame Before the eyes of heaven we fall.

"Earth bears no balsam for mistakes;

Men crown the knave, and scourge the tool That did his will; but, Thou, O Lord, Be merciful to me, a fool!"

The room was hushed; in silence rose
The King, and sought his gardens cool,
And walked apart, and murmured low,
"Be merciful to me, a fool!"

-Edward Rowland Sill.

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