Wait, and thy soul shall speak.
Books take their place according to their specific gravity as surely as potatoes in a tub.
Everything is made of one hidden stuff.
In a library we are surrounded by many hundreds of dear friends, but they are imprisoned by an enchanter in these paper and leathern boxes.
Men are what their mothers made them.
Of the Shaker society, it was formerly a sort of proverb in the country, that they always sent the devil to market.