Only Have Enough Of Little

A Library Is But The Soul's Burial Ground; It Is The Land Of Shadows. Yet One Is Impressed With The Thought, The Labor, And The Struggle, Represented In This Vast Catacomb Of Books. Who Could Dream, By The Placid Waters That Issue From The Level Mouths Of Brooks Into The Lake, All The Plunges, The Whirls, The Divisions, And Foaming Rushes That Had Brought Them Down To The Tranquil Exit? And Who Can Guess Through What Channels Of Disturbance, And Experiences Of Sorrow, The Heart Passed That Has Emptied Into This Dead Sea Of Books?

It's Easier To Go Down A Hill Than Up It But The View Is Much Better At The Top.

The Ignorant Classes Are The Dangerous Classes.

It Is A Higher Exhibition Of Christian Manliness To Be Able To Bear Trouble Than To Get Rid Of It.

Laughter Is Day, And Sobriety Is Night; A Smile Is The Twilight That Hovers Gently Between Both, More Bewitching Than Either.