Wit, without wisdum, iz like a song without sense, it don’t pleaze long.
Yu kan’t find contentment laid down on the map: it iz an imaginary place not settled yet; and thoze reach it the soonest who throw away their compass and go it blind.
The gratest problem ever given tew man tew solve, and the one whitch he haz made the least progress in, iz, “know thyself.”
LETTER TO FARMERS.
Beloved Farmers:
Agrikultur iz the mother ov farm produce; she iz also the step-mother ov gardin sass.
Rize at haff past 2 o’clock in the morning, bild up a big fire in the kitchen, burn out two pounds ov kandels, and grease yure boots.
Wait pashuntly for da brake. When day duz brake, then commense tew stir up the geese and worry the hogs.
Too mutch sleep iz ruinous tew geese and tew hogs. Remember 377 yu kant git ritch on a farm, unless yu rize at 2 o’clock in the morning, and stir up the hogs and worry the geese.
The happyest man in the world iz the farmer; he rizes at 2 o’clock in the morning, he watches for da lite tew brake, and when she duz brake, he goes out and stirs up the geese and worrys the hogs.