Life Without Learning Is Death.

The Whole Life Of A Philosopher Is The Meditation Of His Death.

I Cannot Find A Faithful Message-bearer," He Wrote To His Friend, The Scholar Atticus. "how Few Are They Who Are Able To Carry A Rather Weighty Letter Without Lightening It By Reading.

Rashness Belongs To Youth; Prudence To Old Age.

Every Man Can Tell How Many Goats Or Sheep He Possesses, But Not How Many Friends.

Other Relaxations Are Peculiar To Certain Times, Places And Stages Of Life, But The Study Of Letters Is The Nourishment Of Our Youth, And The Joy Of Our Old Age. They Throw An Additional Splendor On Prosperity, And Are The Resource And Consolation Of Adversity; They Delight At Home, And Are No Embarrassment Abroad; In Short, They Are Company To Us At Night, Our Fellow Travelers On A Journey, And Attendants In Our Rural Recesses.