Many Books Are Longer Than They Seem.

Learning Is Pleasurable But Doing Is The Height Of Enjoyment.

It Is Not Merely The Multiplicity Of Tints, The Gladness Of Tone, Or The Balminess Of The Air Which Delight In The Spring; It Is The Still Consecrated Spirit Of Hope, The Prophecy Of Happy Days Yet To Come; The Endless Variety Of Nature, With Presentiments Of Eternal Flowers Which Never Shall Fade, And Sympathy With The Blessedness Of The Ever-developing World.

Man Has His Being In Truth--if He Sacrifices Truth He Sacrifices Himself. Whoever Betrays Truth Betrays Himself. It Is Not A Question Of Lying--but Of Acting Against One's Conviction.

Friendship, Love, And Piety Ought To Be Handled With A Sort Of Mysterious Secrecy; They Ought To Be Spoken Of Only In The Rare Moments Of Perfect Confidence, To Be Mutually Understood In Silence. Many Things Are Too Delicate To Be Thought; Many More, To Be Spoken.

Philosophy Is Properly Home-sickness; The Wish To Be Everywhere At Home.