Oh call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold.

Thus, when the lamp that lighted The traveller at first goes out, He feels awhile benighted, And looks around in fear and doubt. But soon, the prospect clearing, By cloudless starlight on he treads, And thinks no lamp so cheering As that light which Heaven sheds.

I could never hate anyone I knew.

Since all the maids are good and lovable, from whence come the bad wives?

For with G. D., to be absent from the body is sometimes (not to speak profanely) to be present with the Lord.

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

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