Another day, and I'm sitting here watching another beautiful sunrise. It strikes me that something so beautiful goes to waste: It happens every day, yet, like the tree that falls in the forest "without making a noise," nobody in the world sees it.
I wish to preach, not the doctrine of ignoble ease, but the doctrine of the strenuous life, the life of toil and effort, of labor and strife; to preach that highest form of success which comes, not to the man who desires mere easy peace, but to the man who does not shrink from danger, from hardship, or from bitter toil, and who out of these wins the splendid ultimate triumph.
The world is your execise-book, the pages on which you do your sums.
It is not reality, although you can express reality there if you wish.
You are also free to write nonsense, or lies, or to tear the pages.
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