Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.,
The Autocrat of the Breakfast-Table…
“ Tell me, man or woman with whom I am whispering, have you not a small store of recollections, such as these I am uncovering, buried beneath the dead leaves of many summers, perhaps under the unmelting snows of fast-returning winters, - a few such recollections, which, if you should write them all out, would be swept into some careless editor’s drawer, and might cost a scanty half-hour’s lazy reading to his subscribers, - and yet, if Death should cheat you of them, you would not know yourself in eternity? ”
