Book-love, I Say Again, Lasts Throughout Life,

The End Of Reading Is Not More Books But More Life.

Those Who Seek Happiness Miss It, And Those Who Discuss It, Lack It.

A Large, Still Book Is A Piece Of Quietness, Succulent And Nourishing In A Noisy World, Which I Approach And Imbibe With "a Sort Of Greedy Enjoyment," As Marcel Proust Said Of Those Rooms Of His Old Home Whose Air Was "saturated With The Bouquet Of Silence."

Happiness Is A Form Of Courage.

We Are More Inclined To Regret Our Virtues Than Our Vices; But Only The Very Honest Will Admit This.