A Man Does Not Plant A Tree

A Man Can Bear A World's Contempt When He Has That Within Which Says He's Worthy. When He Contemns Himself, There Burns The Hell.

We Are Never Happy; We Can Only Remember That We Were So Once.

An Old Novel Has A History Of Its Own.

Style, After All, Rather Than Thought, Is The Immortal Thing In Literature.

In My Garden I Spend My Days; In My Library I Spend My Nights.