Not Many Sounds In Life, And I

In Some Respects The Better A Book Is, The Less It Demands From The Binding.

Merit, God Knows, Is Very Little Rewarded.

Reader, If You Are Gifted With Nerves Like Mine, Aspire To Any Character But That Of A Wit.

A Man Can Never Have Too Much Time To Himself, Nor Too Little To Do. Had I A Little Son, I Would Christen Him Nothing-to-do; He Should Do Nothing. Man, I Verily Believe, Is Out Of His Element As Long As He Is Operative. I Am Altogether For The Life Contemplative.

The Harp That Once Through Tara's Halls The Soul Of Music Shed, Now Hangs As Mute On Tara's Walls As If That Soul Were Fled. So Sleeps The Pride Of Former Days, So Glory's Thrill Is O'er; And Hearts That Once Beat High For Praise Now Feel That Pulse No More.