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Once again, I am attempting to rebuild HappyOtter to match the dream of how I wish it would look. I wonder how far I will get this time before I am distracted by an adventure or volunteer project?


Quotes, poems, and photos are working now and are searchable!

Currently establishing userpoint system for Random Acts of Kindness.

Points will allow purchase of nature photos via online shop.

Online shop has begun to work (still needs lots of work).


Old website content still available by clicking here.

Donations are possible below...

Quotes (click to search)

He who is filled with love is filled with God himself.
One kind word can warm three winter months.
A man is rich in proportion to the number of things which he can afford to let alone.
It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself.
The chief lesson I have learned in a long life is that the only way to make a man trustworthy is to trust him; and the surest way to make him untrustworthy is to distrust him and show your distrust.
Look to this day
Yes, in the poor man's garden grow far more than herbs and flowers -- kind thoughts, contentment, peace of mind, and joy for weary hours.
I must create a system, or be enslaved by another man's.
Fear is only an illusion. It is the illusion that creates the feeling of separateness - the false sense of isolation that exists only in your imagination.
Never discourage anyone ... who continually makes progress, no matter how slow.
Do all the good you can, In all the ways you can, In all the places you can, At all the times you can, To all the people you can, As long as ever you can.
Men are born to succeed, not to fail.
The world is transformation; our life is what our thoughts make it.
The secret of success is constancy of purpose.
The greater part of our happiness or misery depends on our dispositions and not on our circumstances. We carry the seeds of the one or the other about with us in our minds wherever we go.
Tolerance not only saves others from your prejudices and fears, but frees your soul to explore and accept the world that has been given to you.
Passion is in all great searches and is necessary to all creative endeavors.
Men for the sake of getting a living forget to live.
Every man takes the limits of his field of vision for the limits of the world.
No wise man ever wished to be younger
Some there are that torment themselves afresh with the memory of what is past; others, again, afflict themselves with the apprehension of evils to come; and very ridiculously both - for the one does not now concern us, and the other not yet ... One should

Poems/Prose (click to search)

This I beheld, or dreamed it in a dream:-- There spread a cloud of dust along a plain; And underneath the cloud, or in it, raged A furious battle, and men yelled, and swords Shocked upon swords and shields. A prince's banner Wavered, then staggered backward, hemmed by foes. A craven hung along the battle's edge, And thought, "Had I a sword of keener steel -- That blue blade that the king's son bears, -- but this Blunt thing-!" he snapt and flung it from his hand, And lowering crept away and left the field. Then came the king's son, wounded, sore bestead, And weaponless, and saw the broken sword Hilt-buried in the dry and trodden sand, And ran and snatched it, and with battle-shout Lifted afresh he hewed his enemy down, And saved a great cause that heroic day.
It's doing your job the best you can And being just to your fellow man; It's making money-but holding friends And true to your aims and ends' It's figuring how and learning why And looking forward and thinking high And dreaming a little and doing much. It's keeping always in closest touch With what is finest in word and deed; It's being thorough, yet making speed; It's daring blithely the field of chance While making labor a brave romance; It's going onward despite defeat And fighting staunchly, but keeping sweet; It's being clean and it's playing fair; It's laughing lightly at Dame Despair; It's looking up at the stars above And drinking deeply of life and love. It's struggling on with the will to win But taking loss with a cheerful grin; It's sharing sorrow and work and mirth And making better this good old earth; It's serving, striving through strain and stress; It's doing your noblest - that's Success!
You who are letting miserable misunderstandings run from year to year, meaning to clear them up someday; you who are keeping wretched quarrels alive because you cannot quite make up your minds that now is the day to sacrifice your pride and kill them; you who are passing men sullenly upon the street, not speaking to them out of some silly spite, and yet knowing that it would fill you with shame and remorse if you heard that one of them were dead tomorrow morning; you who are letting your neighbor starve, till you hear that he is dying of starvation; or letting your friend's heart ache for a word of appreciation or sympathy, which you mean to give him someday; if you could only know and see and feel, all of a sudden, that "the time is short," how it would break the spell! How you would go instantly and do the thing which you might never have another chance to do!
I would rather go to the forest, far away, and build me a little cabin -- build it myself -- and daub it with clay, and live there with my wife and children; and have a winding path leading down to the spring where the water bubbles out, day and night, whispering a poem to the white pebbles, from the heart of the earth; a little hut with some hollyhocks at the corner, with their bannered bosoms open to the sun, and a thrush in the air like a winged joy -- I would rather live there and have some lattice work across the window so that the sun-light would fall checkered on the babe in the cradle -- I would rather live there, with my soul erect and free, than in a palace of gold, and wear a crown of imperial power, and feel that I was superstition's cringing slave, and dare not speak my honest thought.
There are loyal hearts, there are spirits brave, There are souls that are pure and true, Then give to the world the best you have, And the best will come back to you. Give love, and love to your life will flow, A strength in your utmost need, Have faith, and a score of hearts will show Their faith in your word and deed. Give truth, and your gift will be paid in kind; And honor will honor meet; And a smile that is sweet will surely find A smile that is just as sweet. Give pity and sorrow to those who mourn, You will gather in flowers again The scattered seeds from your thoughts outborne Though the sowing seemed but vain. For life is the mirror of king and slave, 'Tis just what we are and do; Then give to the world the best you have, And the best will come back to you.
I took a piece of plastic clay And idly fashioned it one day, And as my fingers pressed it, still It bent and yielded to my will. I came again, when days were passed, The bit of clay was hard at last, The form I gave it, still it bore, But I could change that form no more. Then I took a piece of living clay And gently formed it, day by day And molded with my power and art, A young child's soft and yielding heart. I came again when years were gone, It was a man I looked upon. He still that early impress bore, And I could change it, nevermore.
Success is speaking words of praise, In cheering other people's ways, In doing just the best you can, With every task and every plan, It's silence when your speech would hurt, Politeness when your neighbor's curt, It's deafness when the scandal flows, And sympathy with others' woes, It's loyalty when duty calls, It's courage when disaster falls, It's patience when the hours are long, It's found in laughter and in song, It's in the silent time of prayer, In happiness and in despair, In all of life and nothing less, We find the thing we call success..
True worth is in being, not seeming, -- In doing, each day that goes by, Some little good - not in dreaming Of great things to do by and by. For whatever men say in their blindness, And spite of the fancies of youth, There's nothing so kingly as kindness, And nothing so royal as truth. We get back our mete as we measure-- We cannot do wrong and feel right, Nor can we give pain and gain pleasure, For justice avenges each slight. The air for the wing of the sparrow, The bush for the robin and wren, But always the path that is narrow And straight, for the children of men. 'Tis not in the pages of story The heart of its ills to beguile, Though he who makes courtship to glory Gives all that he hath for her smile. For when from her heights he has won her, Alas! it is only to prove That nothing's so sacred as honor, And nothing so loyal as love! We cannot make bargains for blisses, Nor catch them like fishes in nets; And sometimes the thing our life misses Helps more than the thing which it gets. For good lieth not in pursuing, Nor gaining of great nor of small, But just in the doing, and doing As we would be done by, is all. Through envy, through malice, through hating, Against the world, early and late, No jot of our courage abating -- Our part is to work and to wait. And slight is the sting of his trouble Whose winnings are less than his worth; For he who is honest in noble, Whatever his fortunes of birth.
One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation.
We, the people of the United Nations, determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, which twice in our lifetime has brought untold sorrow to mankind, and to reaffirm faith in fundamental human rights, in the dignity and worth of the human person, in the equal right of men and women and of nations large and small...  And for these ends to practice tolerance and live together in peace with one another as good neighbors... Have resolved to combine these efforts to accomplish our aims. (June, 1945)
If you sit down at set of sun And count the acts that you have done, And, in counting, find One self-denying deed, one word That eased the heart of him who heard- One glance most kind, That fell like sunshine where it went- Then you may count that day well spent. But, if, through all the livelong day, You've cheered no heart, by yea or nay- If, through it all You've nothing done that you can trace That brought the sunshine to one face- No act most small That helped some soul and nothing cost- Then count that day as worse than lost.
I have to live with myself, and so I want to be fit for myself to know, I want to be able, as days go by, Always to look myself straight in the eye; I don't want to stand, with the setting sun, And hate myself for things I have done. I don't want to keep on a closet shelf A lot of secrets about myself, And fool myself, as I come and go, Into thinking that nobody else will know The kind of a man I really am; I don't want to dress up myself in sham. I want to go out with my head erect, I want to deserve all men's respect; But here in the struggle for fame and pelf I want to be able to like myself. I don't want to look at myself and know That I'm bluster and bluff and empty show. I can never hide myself from me; I see what others may never see; I know what others may never know, I never can fool myself, and so, Whatever happens, I want to be Self-respecting and conscience free.
Work while you work, Play while you play; That is the way To be cheerful and gay. All that you do, Do with your might; Things done by halves Are never done right. One thing each time, And that done well, Is a very good rule, As many can tell. Moments are useless Trifled away; So work while you work, And play while you play.
I bargained with Life for a penny, And Life would pay no more, However I begged at evening When I counted my scanty store; For Life is a just employer, He gives you what you ask, But once you have set the wages, Why, you must bear the task. I worked for a menial's hire, Only to learn, dismayed, That any wage I had asked of Life, Life would have paid.
A man should learn to detect and watch that gleam of light which flashes across his mind from within, more than the lustre of the firmament of bards and sages. Yet he dismisses without notice his thought, because it is his. In every work of genius we recognize our own rejected thoughts: they come back to us with a certain alienated majesty.