His Ignorance Was As Remarkable As His

No Man Burdens His Mind With Small Matters Unless He Has Some Very Good Reason For Doing So.

I Am An Omnivorous Reader With A Strangely Retentive Memory For Trifles.

I Consider That A Man's Brain Originally Is Like A Little Empty Attic, And You Have To Stock It With Such Furniture As You Choose. [...] It Is A Mistake To Think That That Little Room Has Elastic Walls And Can Distend To Any Extent. [...] It Is Of The Highest Importance, Therefore, Not To Have Useless Facts Elbowing Out The Useful Ones.

When The Spirits Are Low, When The Day Appears Dark, When Work Becomes Monotonous, When Hope Hardly Seems Worth Having, Just Mount A Bicycle And Go Out For A Spin Down The Road, Without Thought On Anything But The Ride You Are Taking.

Strange Indeed Is Human Nature. Here Were These Men, To Whom Murder Was Familiar, Who Again And Again Had Struck Down The Father Of The Family, Some Man Against Whom They Had No Personal Feeling, Without One Thought Of Compunction Or Of Compassion For His Weeping Wife Or Helpless Children, And Yet The Tender Or Pathetic In Music Could Move Them To Tears.