Books do actually consume air and exhale perfumes.

Here we have a baby. It is composed of a bald head and a pair of lungs.

Not so, however, with books, for books cannot change. A thousand years hence they are what you find them to-day, speaking the same words, holding forth the same cheer, the same promise, the same comfort; always constant, laughing with those who laugh and weeping with those who weep.

All human joys are swift of wing, For heaven doth so allot it; That when you get an easy thing, You find you haven't got it

What smells so? Has somebody been burning a Rag, or is there a Dead Mule in the Back yard? No, the Man is Smoking a Five-Cent Cigar.

Let my temptation be a book, which I shall purchase, hold and keep.

Let my temptation be a book.