Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.
The nurse of full-grown souls is solitude.
Not failure, but low aim, is crime.
Nature fits all her children with something to do, he who would write and can't write, can surely review.
Truth forever on the scaffold, wrong forever on the throne.
Light is the symbol of truth.
The devil loves nothing better than the intolerance of reformers.
A sneer is the weapon of the weak.
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.
Pride and weakness are Siamese twins.
Greatly begin. Though thou have time, but for a line, be that sublime. Not failure, but low aim is crime.
All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action.
Death is delightful. Death is dawn, The waking from a weary night Of fevers unto truth and light.
As life runs on, the road grows strange with faces new - and near the end. The milestones into headstones change, Neath every one a friend.
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then if ever come perfect days Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune And over it softly her warm ear lays.
One thorn of experience is worth a whole wilderness of warning.
Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide ... And the choice goes by forever t'wixt that darkness and that light.
The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinion.
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.
Darkness is strong and so is Sin But surely God endures forever!