Experience enables me to depose to the comfort and blessing that literature can prove in seasons of sickness and sorrow.
Half of the failures in life come from pulling one's horse when he is leaping.
Comfort and indolence are cronies.
Fuss is the froth of business.
But evil is wrought by want of thought, As well as want of heart!
He lies like a hedgehog rolled up the wrong way, Tormenting himself with his prickles.