Don't Judge A Book By Its Cover

Family Likeness Has Often A Deep Sadness In It. Nature, That Great Tragic Dramatist, Knits Us Together By Bone And Muscle, And Divides Us By The Subtler Web Of Our Brains; Blends Yearning And Repulsion; And Ties Us By Our Heart-strings To The Beings That Jar Us At Every Movement.

Much Of Our Waking Experience Is But A Dream In The Daylight.

A Good Solid Bit Of Work Lasts.

Where You Have Friends You Should Not Go To Inns.

... It Is Because Sympathy Is But A Living Again Through Our Own Past In A New Form, That Confession Often Prompts A Response Of Confession.