In Lapidary Inscriptions A Man Is Not

I Look Upon Every Day To Be Lost, In Which I Do Not Make A New Acquaintance.

A Good Wife Is Like The Ivy Which Beautifies The Building To Which It Clings, Twining Its Tendrils More Lovingly As Time Converts The Ancient Edifice Into A Ruin.

No Place Affords A More Striking Conviction Of The Vanity Of Human Hopes Than A Public Library; For Who Can See The Wall Crowded On Every Side By Mighty Volumes, The Works Of Laborious Meditations And Accurate Inquiry, Now Scarcely Known But By The Catalogue.

Sir, What Is Poetry? Why, Sir, It Is Much Easier To Say What It Is Not. We All Know What Light Is; But It Is Not Easy To Tell What It Is.

It Is Surely Very Narrow Policy That Supposes Money To Be The Chief Good.