God Never Made Anything Else So Beautiful

Living Is Death; Dying Is Life. We Are Not What We Appear To Be. On This Side Of The Grave We Are Exiles, On That Citizens; On This Side Orphans, On That Children.

God's Glory Is His Goodness.

Love Is The Wine Of Existence.

The Bibliophile Is The Master Of His Books, The Bibliomaniac Their Slave.

The Slave Labors, But With No Cheer - It Is Not The Road To Respectability, It Will Honor Him With No Citizens' Trust, It Brings No Bread To His Family, No Grain To His Garner, No Leisure In After-days, No Books Or Papers To His Children. It Opens No School-house Door, Builds No Church, Rears For Him No Factory, Lays No Keel, Fills No Bank, Earns No Acres. With Sweat And Toil And Ignorance He Consumes His Life, To Pour The Earnings Into Channels From Which He Does No Drink, Into Hands That Never Honor Him. But Perpetually Rob And Often Torment.