So That My Life Be Brave, What

Books Have That Strange Quality, That Being Of The Frailest And Tenderest Matter, They Outlast Brass, Iron And Marble.

What Sweet Delight A Quiet Life Affords.

He Who Dares Not (reason), Is A Slave.

Thrice Happy He, Who By Some Shady Grove, Far From The Clamorous World; Doth Live His Own; Though Solitary, Who Is Not Alone, But Doth Converse With That Eternal Love.

Put A Bridle On Thy Tongue; Set A Guard Before Thy Lips, Lest The Words Of Thine Own Mouth Destroy Thy Peace... On Much Speaking Cometh Repentance, But In Silence Is Safety.