Books, gentlemen, are a species of men, and introduced to them you circulate in the "very best society" that this world can furnish, without the intolerable infliction of "dressing" to go into it. In your shabbiest coat and cosiest slippers you may socially chat even with the fastidious Earl of Chesterfield, and lounging under a tree enjoy the divinest intimacy with my late lord of Verulam.

Our souls belong to our bodies, not our bodies to our souls.

Traveling takes the ink out of one's pen as well as the cash out of one's purse.

Struck dead by an angel of God! Yet the angel must hang!

The eyes are the gateway to the soul.

At length I fell asleep, with the volume in my hand; and never slept so sound before

You know nothing till you know all; which is the reason we never know any thing.