What name to call thee by, O virgin fair, I know not, for thy looks are not of earth And more than mortal seems thy countenances

Books come at my call and return when I desire them; they are never out of humor and they answer all my questions with readiness. Some present in review before me the events of past ages; others reveal to me the secrets of Nature. These teach me how to live, and those how to die; these dispel my melancholy by their mirth, and amuse me by their sallies of wit. Some there are who prepare my soul to suffer everything, to desire nothing, and to become thoroughly acquainted with itself. In a word, they open the door to all the arts and sciences.

Books can warm the heart with friendly words and counsel, entering into a close relationship with us which is articulate and alive

How difficult it is to save the bark of reputation from the rocks of ignorance.

For virtue only finds eternal Fame.

Often have I wondered with much curiosity as to our coming into this world and what will follow our departure.

Where you are is of no moment, but only what you are doing there. It is not the place that ennobles you, but you the place, and this only by doing that which is great and noble.