“A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit.”

Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet, With charm of earliest birds.

And feel by turns the bitter change Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce.

Let us no more contend, nor blame each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive, In offices of love, how we may lighten each other’s burden.

Apt words have power to suage the tumors of a troubled mind.

Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk.

And live like Nature’s bastards, not her sons.

There is nothing that making men rich and strong but that which they carry inside of them. True wealth is of the heart, not of the hand.

The mind is its own place, and in itself, can make heaven of Hell, and a hell of Heaven.

Infinity is a dark illimitable ocean, without bound.

Loneliness is the first thing which God’s eye named not good.

My latest found, Heaven’s last, best gift, my ever new delight!

Retiring from the popular noise, I seek This unfrequented place to find some ease.

Suffering for truth’s sake Is fortitude to highest victory, And to the faithful death the gate of life.

Meanwhile the Adversary of God and man, Satan with thoughts inflamed of highest design, Puts on swift wings, and towards the gates of hell Explores his solitary flight.

Innocence, Once Lost, Can Never Be Regained. Darkness, Once Gazed Upon, Can Never Be Lost.

Consider first, that great or bright infers not excellence.