No One Should Teach Who Is Not

At Christmas-tide The Open Hand Scatters Its Bounty O'er Sea And Land, And None Are Left To Grieve Alone, For Love Is Heaven And Claims Its Own.

On The Day Long After Childhood When I Suddenly Heard Of His Death, The Sky Grew Dark Above My Head. I Was Walking On A Southern Highway, And A Friend Driving In A Pony Carriage Passed Me, Stopped And Said, "have You Heard That Charles Dickens Is Dead?" It Was As If I Had Been Robbed Of One Of My Dearest Friends.

I Would Not, If I Could, Give Up The Memory Of The Joy I Have Had In Books For Any Advantage That Could Be Offered In Other Pursuits Or Occupations. Books Have Been To Me What Gold Is To The Miser, What New Fields Are To The Explorer.

Memory Is A Trustworthy Servant As Long As It Is Made To Serve.

Creative Genius Is A Divinely Bestowed Gift Which Is The Coronation Of The Few.