I Consider It The Best Part Of

To Be Ignorant Of One's Ignorance Is The Malady Of The Ignorant.

Friends Are The Leaders Of The Bosom, Being More Ourselves Than We Are, And We Complement Our Affections In Theirs.

Of Gifts, There Seems None More Becoming To Offer A Friend Than A Beautiful Book.

Like Birds Of Passage, The Instincts Drift The Soul Adventurously Beyond The Horizon Of Sensible Things, As If Intent On Convoying It To The Mother Country From Whence It Had Flown.

Would Shakespeare And Raleigh Have Done Their Best, Would That Galaxy Have Shone So Bright In The Heavens Had There Been No Elizabeth On The Throne?