“The scholar and the world! The endless strife,
The discord in the harmonies of life!
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,
And all the sweet serenity of books;
The market-place, the eager love of gain,
Whose aim is vanity, and whose end is pain!”

“It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.”

“Give me a room whose every nook is dedicated to a book.”

“He spake of love, such love as spirits feel
In worlds whose course is equable and pure;
No fears to beat away, no strife to heal,—
The past unsighed for, and the future sure.”

“Love taught him shame; and shame, with love at strife,
Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.”

“Whose is the world? Whose is thought? His who loves them.”

“Woe to the man whose heart has not learned while young to hope, to love — and to put its trust in life!!”

“Pain is not love. Love flowers; love gives without taking; love is serene and calm.”

“Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife,
Their sober wishes never learned to stray;
Along the cool sequestered vale of life
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.”

“Every discord is a harmony not understood. Happiness is a disease, and pain, a medicine.”