What A Glut Of Books!

Let Thy Fortune Be What It Will, 'tis Thy Mind Alone That Makes Thee Poor Or Rich, Miserable Or Happy.

Melancholy Can Be Overcome Only By Melancholy.

Worldly Wealth Is The Devil's Bait; And Those Whose Minds Feed Upon Riches Recede, In General, From Real Happiness, In Proportion As Their Stores Increase, As The Moon, When She Is Fullest, Is Farthest From The Sun.

We Can Make Mayors And Officers Every Year, But Not Scholars.

[t]hou Canst Not Think Worse Of Me Than I Do Of Myself.