Of Writing Many Books There Is No

Get Work, Get Work; Be Sure 'tis Better Than What You Work To Get.

Of Writing Many Books There Is No End; And I Who Have Written Much In Prose And Verse For Others' Uses, Will Write Now For Mine,- Will Write My Story For My Better Self, As When You Paint Your Portrait For A Friend, Who Keeps It In A Drawer And Looks At It Long After He Has Ceased To Love You, Just To Hold Together What He Was And Is.

Let Us Be Content To Work To Do The Things We Can, And Not Presume To Fret Because It's Little.

Who Can Fear Too Many Stars, Though Each In Heaven Shall Roll- Too Many Flowers, Though Each Shall Crown The Year? Say Thou Dost Love Me, Love Me, Love Me-toll The Silver Iterance!-only Minding, Dear, To Love Me Also In Silence, With Thy Soul.

No Man Can Be Called Friendless Who Has God And The Companionship Of Good Books.