Death Is A Sleep That Ends Our

What Name To Call Thee By, O Virgin Fair, I Know Not, For Thy Looks Are Not Of Earth And More Than Mortal Seems Thy Countenances

Often On Earth The Gentlest Heart Is Fain To Feed And Banquet On Another's Woe.

Books Have Led Some To Learning And Others To Madness.

Books Never Pall On Me. They Discourse With Us, They Take Counsel With Us, And Are United To Us By A Certain Living Chatty Familiarity. And Not Only Does Each Book Inspire The Sense That It Belongs To Its Readers, But It Also Suggests The Name Of Others, And One Begets The Desire Of The Other.

It Is Better To Will The Good Than To Know The Truth.