Books Are A Finer World Within The

Your Death And My Death Are Mainly Of Importance To Ourselves. The Black Plumes Will Be Stripped Off Our Hearses Within The Hour; Tears Will Dry, Hurt Hearts Close Again, Our Graves Grow Level With The Church-yard, And Although We Are Away, The World Wags On. It Does Not Miss Us; And Those Who Are Near Us, When The First Strangeness Of Vacancy Wears Off, Will Not Miss Us Much Either.

Not On The Stage Alone, In The World Also, A Man's Real Character Comes Out Best In His Asides.

A Brave Soul Is A Thing Which All Things Serve.

Death, Which We Are Accustomed To Consider An Evil, Really Acts For Us The Friendliest Part, And Takes Away The Commonplace Of Existence.

A Man Gazing At The Stars Is Proverbially At The Mercy Of The Puddles In The Road.