In idle wishes, fools supinely stay. Be there a will and wisdom finds a way.

We cannot heal the throbbing heart till we discern the wounds within.

Better to love amiss than nothing to have loved.

Her air, her manners, all who saw admir'd; Courteous though coy, and gentle though retir'd; The joy of youth and health her eyes display'd, And ease of heart her every look convey'd.

In idle wishes, fools supinely stay. Be there a will and wisdom finds a way.

This, books can do-nor this alone; they give New views to life, and teach us how to live; They soothe the grieved, the stubborn they chastise; Fools they admonish, and confirm the wise. Their aid they yield to all: they never shun The man of sorrow, nor the wretch undone; Unlike the hard, the selfish, and the proud, They fly not sullen from the suppliant crowd; Nor tell to various people various things, But show to subjects, what they show to kings.

Who often reads, will sometimes wish to write.