The Reading Of Books, What

None Are Too Wise To Be Mistaken, But Few Are So Wisely Just As To Acknowledge And Correct Their Mistakes, And Especially The Mistakes Of Prejudice.

Slander Is A Complication, A Comprisal And Sum Of All Wickedness.

Sin Is Never At A Stay; If We Do Not Retreat From It, We Shall Advance In It; And The Farther On We Go, The More We Have To Come Back.

Virtue Is Not A Mushroom, That Springeth Up Of Itself In One Night When We Are Asleep, Or Regard It Not; But A Delicate Plant, That Groweth Slowly And Tenderly, Needing Much Pains To Cultivate It, Much Care To Guard It, Much Time To Mature It, In Our Untoward Soil, In This World's Unkindly Weather.

He That Loveth A Book Will Never Want A Faithful Friend, A Wholesome Counsellor, A Cheerful Companion, An Effectual Comforter. By Study, By Reading, By Thinking, One May Innocently Divert And Pleasantly Entertain Himself, As In All Weathers, So In All Fortunes.