Books never pall on me. They discourse with us, they take counsel with us, and are united to us by a certain living chatty familiarity. And not only does each book inspire the sense that it belongs to its readers, but it also suggests the name of others, and one begets the desire of the other.

It may be only glory that we seek here, but I persuade myself that, as long as we remain here, that is right. Another glory awaits us in heaven and he who reaches there will not wish even to think of earthly fame.

All pleasure in the world is a passing dream.

I have taken pride in others, never in myself.

For style beyond the genius never dares.

Nothing mortal is enduring, and there is nothing sweet which does not presently end in bitterness.

Wanting is not enough, long and you attain it.