The Grave Itself Is But A Covered

No Literature Is Complete Until The Language It Was Written In Is Dead.

Your Education Begins Where What Is Called Your Education Is Over. Your Fate Is But The Common Lot Of All.

It Is True, That It Is Not At All Necessary To Love Many Books, In Order To Love Them Much.

By The Shore Of Gitche Gumee, By The Shining Big-sea-water, At The Doorway Of His Wigwam, In The Pleasant Summer Morning, Hiawatha Stood And Waited.

Youth Wrenches The Sceptre From Old Age, And Sets The Crown On Its Own Head Before It Is Entitled To It.