The Book of Books Within this ample volume lies The mystery of mysteries. Happiest they of human race To whom their God has given grace To read, to fear, to hope, to pray, To lift the latch, to force the way; But better had they ne'er been born That read to doubt or read to scorn.

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war, Was to wed the fair Ellen of Lochinvar.

For love is heaven and heaven is love.

The paths of virtue, though seldom those of worldly greatness, are always those of pleasantness and peace.

Faces that have charmed us the most escape us the soonest.

The will to do, the soul to dare..

And better had they ne'er been born, Who read to doubt, or read to scorn.