Books let us into their souls and lay open to us the secrets of our own.

Books let us into their souls and lay open to us the secrets of our own."

[The Sick Chamber (The New Monthly Magazine , August 1830)]

Learning is, in too many cases, but a foil to common sense; a substitute for true knowledge. Books are less often made use of as ''spectacles'' to look at nature with, than as blinds to keep out its strong light and shifting scenery from weak eyes and indolent dispositions. The learned are mere literary drudges.

We trifle with, make sport of, and despise those who are attached to us, and follow those that fly from us.

There are few things in which we deceive ourselves more than in the esteem we profess to entertain for our friends. It is little better than a piece of quackery. The truth is, we think of them as we please, that is, as they please or displease us.

Nothing makes us so lonely as our secrets.