We Use Up In The Passions The

The Breath Of The Mind Is Attention.

Grief - Happiness Is To Feel That One's Soul Is Good; There Is No Other, In Truth, And This Kind Of Happiness May Exist Even In Sorrow, So That There Are Griefs Perfable To Every Joy, And Such As Would Be Preferred By All Those Who Have Felt Them.

There Was A Time When The World Acted On Books; Now Books Act On The World.

I Resemble The Poplar,--that Tree Which, Even When Old, Still Looks Young.

To Be Capable Of Respect Is Almost As Rare As To Be Worthy Of It.