"Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind."
"Some day the soft Ideal that we wooed confronts us fiercely, foe-beset, pursued, and cries reproachful: Was it then my praise, and not myself was loved? Prove now thy truth; I claim of thee the promise of thy youth."
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Source: James Russell Lowell (1871). “The poetical works of James Russell Lowell”, p.431
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"Fate loves the fearless."
"The devil loves nothing better than the intolerance of reformers."
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