If they bore you, fling 'em in the snow and think no worse of me.

You can't tell what a given book may be worth to a given man in an unknown mood.

They've become such a commodity to me that I thank my stars for a month away from them when I may come at 'em at a different angle and really need a few old ones--Wordsworth, for instance.

When you get old enough, you'll wake up some day with the feeling that the world is much more beautiful than it was when you were young, that a landscape has a closer meaning, that the sky is more companionable, that outdoor colour and motion are more splendidly audacious and beautifully rhythmical than you had ever thought.

That's true.