There Are Noble Books But One Wants

I Stand In The Sunny Noon Of Life. Objects No Longer Glitter In The Dews Of Morning, Neither Are Yet Softened By The Shadows Of Evening.

We Cannot Have Expression Till There Is Something To Be Expressed.

Certainly I Do Not Wish That Instead Of These Masters I Had Read Baby Books, Written Down To Children, And With Such Ignorant Dullness That They Blunt The Sense And Corrupt The Tastes Of The Still Plastic Human Being. But I Do Wish That I Had Read No Books At All Till Later - That I Had Lived With Toys, And Played In The Open Air. Children Should Not Cull The Fruits Of Reflection And Observation Early, But Expand In The Sun, And Let Thoughts Come To Them. They Should Not Through Books Antedate Their Actual Experiences.

What A Difference It Makes To Come Home To A Child!

Most Marvelous And Enviable Is That Fecundity Of Fancy Which Can Adorn Whatever It Touches, Which Can Invest Naked Fact And Dry Reasoning With Unlooked-for Beauty, Make Flowers Bloom Even On The Brow Of The Precipice, And, When Nothing Better Can Be Had, Can Turn The Very Substance Of Rock Itself Into Moss And Lichens. This Faculty Is Uncomparingly The Most Important For The Vivid And Attractive Exhibition Of Truth To The Minds Of Men.