Books Are A Finer World Within The

Every Day Travels Toward Death; The Last Only Arrives At It.

There Is A Certain Even-handed Justice In Time; And For What He Takes Away He Gives Us Something In Return. He Robs Us Of Elasticity Of Limb And Spirit, And In Its Place He Brings Tranquility And Repose—the Mild Autumnal Weather Of The Soul.

Vanity In Its Idler Moments Is Benevolent, Is As Willing To Give Pleasure As To Take It, And Accepts As Sufficient Reward For Its Services A Kind Word Or An Approving Smile.

If You Wish To Preserve Your Secret, Wrap It Up In Frankness.

The Great Man Is The Man Who Does A Thing For The First Time.