The Babe At First Feeds Upon The

Coming To The Bible Through Commentaries Is Much Like Looking At A Landscape Through Garret Windows, Over Which Generations Of Unmolested Spiders Have Spun Their Webs.

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

Home Should Be The Center Of Joy, Equatorial And Tropical.

I Think Half The Troubles For Which Men Go Slouching In Prayer To God Are Caused By Their Intolerable Pride. Many Of Our Cares Are But A Morbid Way Of Looking At Our Privileges. We Let Our Blessings Get Mouldy, And Then Call Them Curses.

Each Book Has A Secret History Of Ways And Means.