Here is little Effie's head. Her brains are made of gingerbread. When
the judgement day comes, God will find six read more

Here is little Effie's head. Her brains are made of gingerbread. When
the judgement day comes, God will find six crumbs. Stooping by the coffin
lid waiting for something to rise as the something's always did. Imagine
His surprise, bellowing above the general noise, "Where is Effie? She
was dead." Back to God in a tiny voice: "My name's Maybe."
The first crumb said. The number two crumb picked up the song.
"Might, I'm called. I've done no wrong." Cried the third crumb,
"I am Should. Here's our little brother Could and my big sister
Would. Don't punish us for we've been good." And the last crumb, with
some shame, whispered unto God, "My name is Must and with the others,
we've been Effie, who isn't alive and never was. Cross the threshold have
no dread. Lift the sheet back in this way.

Anything you cannot relinquish when it has outlived its usefulness
possesses you, and in this materialistic age a great many read more

Anything you cannot relinquish when it has outlived its usefulness
possesses you, and in this materialistic age a great many of us are
possessed by our possessions.

The presence of a long-term, conscious goal has helped me maintain stability through the ubiquitous changes of over half a read more

The presence of a long-term, conscious goal has helped me maintain stability through the ubiquitous changes of over half a century.

Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another.

Poor is the man whose pleasures depend on the permission of another.

Be smart, be intelligent and be informed.

Be smart, be intelligent and be informed.

I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand.

I hear and I forget. I see and I remember. I do and I understand.

The consciousness of being deemed dead, is next to the presumable unpleasantness of being so in reality. One feels like read more

The consciousness of being deemed dead, is next to the presumable unpleasantness of being so in reality. One feels like his own ghost unlawfully tenanting a defunct carcass.

Mind is the Master-power that molds and makes, and Man is Mind, and
evermore he takes the Tool of Thought, read more

Mind is the Master-power that molds and makes, and Man is Mind, and
evermore he takes the Tool of Thought, and shaping what he wills, brings
forth a thousand joys, a thousand ills-He thinks in secret and it comes to
pass; Environment is but his looking-glass. As A Man Thinketh
.

People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, read more

People are like stained-glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there light is from within.