We are more inclined to regret our virtues than our vices; but only the very honest will admit this. – Holbrook Jackson
A large, still book is a piece of quietness, succulent and nourishing in a noisy world, which I approach and imbibe with “a sort of greedy enjoyment,” as Marcel Proust said of those rooms of his old home whose air was “saturated with the bouquet of silence.” – Holbrook Jackson