Books have that strange quality, that being of the frailest and tenderest matter, they outlast brass, iron and marble. — William Drummond Copy Share Image
He who will not reason, is a bigot; he who cannot is a fool; and he who dares not is a slave. — William Drummond Copy Share Image
There is a silence, the child of love, which expresses everything, and proclaims more loudly than the tongue is able to do. — William Drummond Copy Share Image
Study what thou art Whereof thou art a part What thou knowest of this art This is really what thou art. All that is… — William Drummond Copy Share Image
Thrice happy he, who by some shady grove, Far from the clamorous world; doth live his own; Though solitary, who is not alone, But… — William Drummond Copy Share Image
He that will not reason is a bigot; he that cannot reason is a fool; he that dares not reason is a slave — William Drummond Copy Share Image
Put a bridle on thy tongue; set a guard before thy lips, lest the words of thine own mouth destroy thy peace... on much… — William Drummond Copy Share Image
Sleep, Silence's child, sweet father of soft rest, Prince whose approach peace to all mortals brings Indifferent host to shepherds and kings Sole comforter… — William Drummond Copy Share Image
As we had no part of our will on our entrance into this life, we should not presume to any on our leaving it,… — William Drummond Copy Share Image
