The decent docent doesn't doze; He teaches standing on his toes. His students dassn't doze and does, And that's what teaching is and was.
Books fall open, you fall in, delighted where you've never been.
Books fall open, you fall in, delighted where you've never been; hear voices not once heard before, reach world on world through door on door; find unexpected keys to things locked up beyond imaginings. What might you be, perhaps become, because one book is somewhere? Some wise delver into wisdom, wit, and wherewithal has written it. True books will venture, dare you out, whisper secrets, maybe shout across the gloom to you in need, who hanker for a book to read.
A pedestrian is a man in danger of his life. A walker is a man in possession of his soul.
Your life will be rich for others only as it is rich for you.
The high-ceilinged rooms, the little balconies, alcoves, nooks and angles all suggest sanctuary, escape, creature comfort. The reader, the scholar, the browser, the borrower is king.
The cricket's gone, we only hear machines In erg and atom they exact their pay. And life is largely lived on silver screens.
Books fall open, you fall in.
Life is a garment we continuously alter, but which never seems to fit.
But man must light for man The fires no other can, And find in his own eye Where the strange crossroads lie.
A handful of sand is an anthology of the universe.
March is outside the door Flaming some old desire As man turns uneasily from his fire.
Metaphorically these essays move as a quiet but observant coast-guard cutter among the rocks and islands up and down the littoral of our life.
