Books are not absolutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them....I know they are as lively and as vigorously productive as those fabulous dragon's teeth and being sown up and down, may chance to spring up armed men.

Sweet bird, that shun the noise of folly, most musical, most melancholy!

No institution which does not continually test its ideals, techniques and measure of accomplishment can claim real vitality.

Death Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear His famine should be fill'd.

So shall the world go on, To good malignant, to bad men benign, Under her own weight groaning.

In discourse more sweet; For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense. Others apart sat on a hill retir'd, In thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute; And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost.

His sleep Was aery light, from pure digestion bred.