Falsehood Is For A Season.

We Oftener Say Things Because We Can Say Them Well, Than Because They Are Sound And Reasonable.

But I Have Sinuous Shells Of Pearly Hue Within, And They That Lustre Have Imbibed In The Sun's Palace-porch, Where When Unyoked Chariot-wheel Stands Midway In The Wave: Shake One, And It Awakens; Then Apply Its Polisht Lips To Your Attentive Ear, And It Remembers Its August Abodes, And Murmurs As The Ocean Murmurs There.

Merit Has Rarely Risen Of Itself, But A Pebble Or A Twig Is Often Quite Sufficient For It To Spring From To The Highest Ascent. There Is Usually Some Baseness Before There Is Any Elevation.

Nothing Is Pleasanter To Me Than Exploring In A Library.

A True Philosopher Is Beyond The Reach Of Fortune.