True happines is not attained through self gratification but through fidelity to a worthy purpose.

To me a lush carpet of pine needles or spongy grass is more welcome than the most luxurious Persian rug.

Great poetry, whether written in Greek or in English, needs no other interpreter than a responsive heart.

I was born on June 27, 1880, in Tuscumbia, a little town of northern Alabama.

The world is moved along, not only by the mighty shoves of its heroes, but also by the aggregate of tiny pushes of each honest worker.

The simplest way to be happy is to do good.

There is nothing more beautiful, I think, than the evanescent fleeting images and sentiments presented by a language one is just becoming familiar with—ideas that flit across the mental sky, shaped and tinted by capricious fancy.

There is joy in self-forgetfulness. So I try to make the light in others' eyes my sun, the music in others' ears my symphony, the smile on others' lips my happiness.

More than at any other time, when I hold a beloved book in my hand my limitations fall from me, my spirit is free.

True friends never apart maybe in distance but never in heart.

Of all the senses, sight must be the most delightful.

Blind people are just like seeing people in the dark. The loss of sight does not impair the qualities of mind and heart.

The struggle of life is one of our greatest blessings. It makes us patient, sensitive, and Godlike. It teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it.