Talking over the things which you have read with your companions fixes them on the mind.
Dear Lord. I give myself away. I've nothing else to give.
What's amiss I'll strive to mend,And endure what can't be mended.
As a man may be eating all day, and for want of digestion is never nourished, so these endless readers may cram themselves in vain with intellectual food.
And he that does one fault at first And lies to hide it, makes it two.
The eyes of a man in the jaundice make yellow observations on everything; and the soul tinctured with any passion diffuses a false color over the appearance of things.