Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!

Books think for me. I can read anything which I call a book.

I cannot sit and think; books think for me.

I never knew an enemy to puns who was not an ill-natured man.

It is good to love the unknown.

No eye to watch, and no tongue to wound us, All earth forgot, and all heaven around us.

The trumpet does not more stun you by its loudness, than a whisper teases you by its provoking inaudibility.