Every Human Being Is A Volume, Worthy

The Reveries Of Youth, In Which So Much Energy Is Wasted, Are The Yearnings Of A Spirit Made For What It Has Not Found But Must Forever Seek As An Ideal

Did Any Man At His Death Ever Regret His Conflicts With Himself, His Victories Over Appetite, His Scorn Of Impure Pleasure, Or His Sufferings For Righteousness' Sake?

The Miracles Of Christ Were Studiously Performed In The Most Unostentatious Way. He Seemed Anxious To Veil His Majesty Under The Love With Which They Were Wrought.

God Be Thanked For Books; They Are The Voices Of The Distant And The Dead, And Make Us Heirs Of The Spiritual Life Of Past Ages.

No Man Receives The Full Culture Of A Man In Whom The Sensibility To The Beautiful Is Not Cherished; And There Is No Condition Of Life From Which It Should Be Excluded. Of All Luxuries This Is The Cheapest, And The Most At Hand, And Most Important To Those Conditions Where Coarse Labor Tends To Give Grossness To The Mind.