not be too moral. You may cheat yourself out of much life so. Aim
above morality. Be not simply good; be good for something.--_Thoreau._

~Morning.~--Vanished night, shot through with orient beams.--_Milton._

The dewy morn, with breath all incense, and with cheek all
bloom.--_Byron._

Jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain top.--_Shakespeare._

When the glad sun, exulting in his might, comes from the dusky-curtained
tents of night.--_Emma C. Embury._

The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, doth with his lofty and
shrill-sounding throat awake the god of day.--_Shakespeare._

Its brightness, mighty divinity! has a fleeting empire over the day,
giving gladness to the fields, color to the flowers, the season of the
loves, harmonious hour of wakening birds.--_Calderon._

Temperate as the morn.--_Shakespeare._

I was always an early riser. Happy the man who is! Every morning day
comes to him with a virgin's love, full of bloom and freshness. The
youth of nature is contagious, like the gladness of a happy
child.--_Bulwer-Lytton._

~Mother.~--Children, look in those eyes, listen to that dear voice, notice
the feeling of even a single touch that is bestowed upon you by that
gentle hand! Make much of it while yet you have that most precious of
all good gifts, a loving mother. Read the unfathomable love of those
eyes; the kind anxiety of that tone and look, however slight your pain.
In after life you may have friends, fond, dear friends, but never will
you have again the inexpressible love and gentleness lavished upon you
which none but a mother bestows.--_Macaulay._

Nature's loving proxy, the watchful mother.--_Bulwer-Lytton._

I believe I should have been swept away by the flood of French
infidelity, if it had not been for one thing, the remembrance of the
time when my sainted mother used to make me kneel by her side, taking my
little hands folded in hers, and caused me to repeat the Lord's
Prayer.--_Thomas Randolph._

The mother's yearning, that completest type of the life in another life
which is the essence of real human love, feels the presence of the
cherished child even in the base, degraded man.--_George Eliot._

When Eve was brought unto Adam, he became filled with the Holy Spirit,
and gave her the most sanctified, the most glorious of appellations. He
called her Eva, that is to say, the Mother of All. He did not style her
wife, but simply mother,--mother of all living creatures. In this
con