The Only Thing A Man

In The Entire Circle Of The Year There Are No Days So Delightful As Those Of A Fine October.

A Bottomless Pit Of Violence, A Tower Of Babel Where All Are Speakers And No Hearers.

In Winter, When The Dismal Rain Comes Down In Slanting Lines, And Wind, That Grand Old Harper, Smote His Thunder-harp Of Pines.

Fine Phrases I Value More Than Bank-notes. I Have Ear For No Other Harmony Than The Harmony Of Words. To Be Occasionally Quoted Is The Only Fame I Care For.

Books Are A Finer World Within The World. (1863)