As half in shade and half in sun This world along its path advances, May that side the sun 's upon Be all that e'er shall meet thy glances!

I love to lose myself in other men's minds.... Books think for me.

Science has succeeded to poetry, no less in the little walks of children than with men. Is there no possibility of averting this sore evil?

A book reads the better which is our own, and has been so long known to us, that we know the topography of its blots, and dog's ears, and can trace the dirt in it to having read it at tea with buttered muffins.

No one ever regarded the First of January with indifference. It is that from which all date their time, and count upon what is left. It is the nativity of our common Adam.

And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

Riches are chiefly good because they give us time.