Give Me Books, French Wine,

I Must Choose Between Despair And Energy──i Choose The Latter.

Nothing Ever Becomes Real Till Experienced – Even A Proverb Is No Proverb Until Your Life Has Illustrated It

We Read Fine Things But Never Feel Them To The Full Until We Have Gone The Same Steps As The Author.

Who Hath Not Seen Thee Oft Amid Thy Store? Sometimes Whoever Seeks Abroad May Find Thee Sitting Careless On A Granary Floor, Thy Hair Soft-lifted By The Winnowing Wind; Or On A Half-reap'd Furrow Sound Asleep, Drows'd With The Fume Of Poppies, While Thy Hook Spares The Next Swath And All Its Twined Flowers.

I Have Good Reason To Be Content, For Thank God I Can Read And Perhaps Understand Shakespeare To His Depths.