He That Lives By The Sight Of

Love Is The Wine Of Existence. When You Have Taken That, You Have Taken The Most Precious Drop That There Is In The Cluster.

A Book Is A Garden; A Book Is An Orchard; A Book Is A Storehouse; A Book Is A Party. It Is Company By The Way; It Is A Counselor; It Is A Multitude Of Counselors.

Pushing Any Truth Out Very Far, You Are Met By A Counter-truth.

Boys Have Their Soft And Gentle Moods Too. You Would Suppose By The Morning Racket That Nothing Could Be More Foreign To Their Nature Than Romance And Vague Sadness. . . . But Boys Have Hours Of Great Sinking And Sadness, When Kindness And Fondness Are Peculiarly Needful To Them.

It Is Not Desirable That We Should Live As In The Constant Atmosphere And Presence Of Death; That Would Unfit Us For Life; But It Is Well For Us, Now And Then, To Talk With Death As Friend Talketh With Friend, And To Bathe In The Strange Seas, And To Anticipate The Experiences Of That Land To Which It Will Lead Us. These Forethinkings Are Meant, Not To Make Us Discontented With Life, But To Bring Us Back With More Strength, And A Nobler Purpose In Living.