Love Turns, With A Little Indulgence, To

The Chain Of Habit Coils Itself Around The Heart Like A Serpent, To Gnaw And Stifle It.

It Is Better To Be Able Neither To Read Nor Write Than To Be Able To Do Nothing Else.

The Measure Of Any Man's Virtue Is What He Would Do, If He Had Neither The Laws Nor Public Opinion, Nor Even His Own Prejudices, To Control Him.

The Book-worm Wraps Himself Up In His Web Of Verbal Generalities, And Sees Only The Glimmering Shadows Of Things Reflected From The Minds Of Others.

It Is Remarkable How Virtuous And Generously Disposed Every One Is At A Play.