Words Are The Motes Of

Worthy Books Are Not Companions – They Are Solitudes: We Lose Ourselves In Them And All Our Cares.

Hell Is The Wrath Of God--his Hate Of Sin.

We Live In Deeds, Not Years; In Thoughts, Not Figures On A Dial. We Should Count Time By Heart Throbs. He Most Lives Who Thinks Most, Feels The Noblest, Acts The Best.

Imagination Is The Air Of Mind.

The Beautiful Are Never Desolate; But Some One Alway Loves Them--god Or Man. If Man Abandons, God Himself Takes Them.