Gone before To that unknown and silent shore.

Rags, which are the reproach of poverty, are the beggar's robes, and graceful insignia of his profession, his tenure, his full dress, the suit in which he is expected to show himself in public.

Beholding heaven, and feeling hell.

How convalescence shrinks a man back to his pristine stature! where is now the space, which he occupied so lately, in his own, in the family's eye?

Nothing puzzles me more than time and space; and yet nothing troubles me less, as I never think about them.

Think what you would have been now, if instead of being fed with tales and old wives' fables in childhood, you had been crammed with geography and natural history!

In some respects the better a book is, the less it demands from the binding.