Will you come with me, sweet Reader? I thank you. Give me your hand.

Throw your heart into the picture and then jump in after it.

You who so plod amid serious things that you feel it shame to give yourself up even for a few short moments to mirth and joyousness in the land of Fancy; you who think that life hath not to do with innocent laughter that can harm no one; these pages are not for you.

(H)ope, be it never so faint, bringeth a gleam into darkness, like a little rushlight that costeth but a groat.

An I must drink sour ale, I must, but never have I yielded me to man before, and that without wound or mark upon my body. Nor, when I bethink me, will I yield now.

When the flood cometh it sweepeth away grain as well as chaff.

The student learns rules but all the rules in the world never make a picture.