Like a bird she seems to wear gay plumage unconsciously, as if it grew upon her.

The bibliophile is the master of his books, the bibliomaniac their slave.

At the bottom of every leaf-stem is a cradle, and in it is an infant germ; the winds will rock it, the birds will sing to it all summer long, but the next season it will unfold and go alone.

There have been many men who left behind them that which hundreds of years have not worn out. The earth has Socrates and Plato to this day. The world is richer yet by Moses and the old prophets than by the wisest statesmen. We are indebted to the past. We stand in the greatness of ages that are gone rather than in that of our own. But of how many of us shall it be said that, being dead, we yet speak?

Storms purify the atmosphere.

Downright admonition, as a rule, is too blunt for the recipient.

Reading is a dissuasion from immorality. Reading stands in the place of company.