The art of progress is to preserve order amid change.
To build may have to be the slow and laborious task of years. To destroy can be the thoughtless act of a single day.
It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.
The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.
Nobody knows the age of the human race, but everybody agrees that it is old enough to know better.
You can never plan the future by the past.
And this our life, exempt from public haunt, finds tongues in trees, books in running brooks, sermons in stones, and good in everything.
This is the true joy in life — being used for a purpose recognized by yourself as a mighty one…