by Danny James
I believe I have finally arrived at that fine and bracing estate of contentedness for which we all strive, yet stray many from. Where the gradient begins to level at last and reveals a most appealing and inhabitable clearing in all directions within the kindling eyes compass. I’ll tell you, have I never found so much progress or benefit, as that day I stood with my own heaping harassments, and decided that for all my dying days I would none but ‘be a friend to myself,’ and left all the frivolous details and unnecessaries the soul grudges itself abiding. All men and fortunes expire by instants. The future someday will come, and must be forgot, only quick enough to recollect to oneself the value in every remaining hour, nor need one calculate what has passed but for how it has progressed thee to these glorious moments to which the wise will bind, and thus in all circumstances of the world, a present and willing friend find.