Search America's historic newspaper pages from 1789-1949 or use the U.S. Newspaper Directory to find information about American newspapers published between 1690-present. Chronicling America is sponsored jointly by the
National Endowment for the Humanities and the Library of Congress. external link Learn more
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
Newspaper Page Text
"We are sUCh Stuff as dreams
are made of.''
All of us, at some time, have
our day dreams.
When we, are young, life glit
ters before us like an endless
pageant of beauty, created and
glided by our child-mind dreams
To most of us the years bring
disillusion. Our castles in the air
fade on approach like a mirage in
the desert, leaving life a waste of
barren and sterile sands.
It fs our own fault that our
early dreams are permitted to
perish; and our own undoing.
They are divinely implanted as
the seeds of individuality. They
are heavenly stars set as guides
to our destiny.
Dreams are ideal ; and the soul
without ideals withers and dies.
The secret of youth and enthus
iasm in the grown man lies in his
loyalty to his dreams. When
the dreams are ended the virile
life is done. '
This is the difference between
the great and th.e little souls of
earth the little soul, disappoint
ed, ceases to dream. The great
soul dreams on and goes out to
realize the dream.
The castle in the air is the
home of the soul. Failure lets it
fade for want of a foundation;
highest and truest success builds
a secure foundation under it.
Every great soul of man has
seen a vision and pondered it un
til the passion to make the dream
come true has dominated the life.
f 'Tfee'-Heet Hrg is3 yese jfcc
itav T?oivx6R. iscus tor J 3f
( , OS FINALS . tKjLP ' 'Rg
Might Vjn, 30 41 vjll te e- &
V Hiss -Discuss Wta Jam )&
jicce of 6L4stcv rT &
Btegtaffi - m
Jack and Bob were out for a
day's fishing last summer. They
had been sitting yery patiently by
the side of the river for nearly
four hours without makgig a cap
ture, when suddenly Jack cried:
"Bob, I've got a bite.'
"What is it?" cried Bdt in ex
citement. "A trout?"
"No," replied Jack. f'Tt's a
wasp." Tit-Bits. j
O'Brien Come home an' have
supper wid me, ifylurphy.
Mufphy (lookihg at his watch)i
Shure, it's past 9. be the clock;
yer wife will be madias the divil !
O'Brien -Yis that's jist it; but
she can't lick the twoav us.