O what a thing is age! Death without death's quiet.

We may receive so much light as not to see, and so much philosophy as to be worse than foolish.

In the morn of life we are alert, we are heated in its noon, and only in its decline do we repose.

There are proud men of so much delicacy that it almost conceals their pride, and perfectly excuses it.

Nothing is pleasanter to me than exploring in a library.

He who first praises a book becomingly is next in merit to the author.

A little praise is good for a shy temper; it teaches it to rely on the kindness of others.