2
" I returned to the fields of glory, where the green grass an' flowers grow,An' the wind softly sings the story of the braves lad of long ago.In the great glen, they lie a-sleeping, where the cool waters gently flow,An' the grey mist is sadly weeping for the brave lads of long ago.See the tall grass is there a-waving as their flags were so long ago;With their heads high, were forward braving, marching onwards to meet the foe.March no more, my soldier laddie, there is peace where there once was war.Sleep in peace, my soldier laddie. Sleep in peace now, the battle's o'er. "
5
" It is a great thing to start life with a small number of really good books which are your very own. You may not appreciate them at first. You may pine for your novel of crude and unadulterated adventure. You may, and will, give it the preference when you can. But the dull days come, and the rainy days come, and always you are driven to fill up the chinks of your reading with the worthy books which wait so patiently for your notice. And then suddenly, on a day which marks an epoch in your life, you understand the difference. You see, like a flash, how the one stands for nothing, and the other for literature. From that day onwards you may return to your crudities, but at least you do so with some standard of comparison in your mind. You can never be the same as you were before. Then gradually the good thing becomes more dear to you; it builds itself up with your growing mind; it becomes a part of your better self, and so, at last, you can look, as I do now, at the old covers and love them for all that they have meant in the past. "
― Arthur Conan Doyle , Through The Magic Door
