As you grow ready for it, somewhere or other you will find what is needful for you in a book.

There is this difference between the growth of some human beings and that of others: in the one case it is a continuous dying, in the other a continuous resurrection.

Books are but dead bodies to you, and a library nothing but a catacomb!

I wondered over again for the hundredth time what could be the principle which, in the wildest, most lawless, fantastically chaotic, apparently capricious work of Nature, always kept it beautiful.

I watched her departure, as one watches a sunset. She went like a radiance through the dark wood, which was henceforth bright to me, from simply knowing that such a creature was in it.

What would the Living One have me do?

What can money do to console a man with a headache?