The Object Of Reflection Is Invariably The

Reading, To Most People, Means An Ashamed Way Of Killing Time Disguised Under A Dignified Name

Every Now And Then We Discover In The Seething Mass Of Humanity Round Us A Person Who Does Not Seem To Need Anybody Else, And The Contrast With Ourselves Is Stinging.

A Book, Like A Landscape, Is A State Of Consciousness Varying With Readers.

Ideas Are The Root Of Creation.

Americans Cannot Realize How Many Chances For Mental Improvement They Lose By Their Inveterate Habit Of Keeping Six Conversations When There Are Twelve In The Room.