It Is In Our Minds

Most Of The Pleasure Of Making A Book Would Go If It Held Nothing To Be Shared By Other People. I Would Write For A Few Dozen People, And Sometimes It Seems That I Do So, But I Would Not Write For No-one.

Well, Buttermere, This Is A Day That Is Good To Live And Breathe In, That Makes A Man Feel In His Prime. Standing Here In Front Of My House, I Feel As Young As When I Moved Into It Thirty Years Ago, In The Year Eighteen Hundred And Fifty-nine. What Aged Man Would You Take Me To Be, As I Step As It Were Casually Into Your View?

There Are Different Kinds Of Wrong. The People Sinned Against Are Not Always The Best.

I Wonder The Human Race Has Been So Fond Of Migrations, When The Young Take So Hardly To Traveling.

Magnifying A Matter Is Not The Way To Mend It.