Twin loaves of bread have just been born into the world under my auspices. Fine children, the image of their mother. And here, my dear friend, is the glory.

Time is short and full, like an outgrown Frock - .

Friends are nations in themselves.

To travel far, there is no better ship than a book.

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

A precious, mouldering pleasure 't is, to meet an antique book, In just the dress his century wore; A privilege I think.

Nothing more do I ask than to share with you the ecstasy and sacrament of my life.