I am now the most miserable man living. If what I feel equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth. Whether I shall ever be better, I cannot tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible. I must die or be better, it appears to me.

Elections belong to the people. It's their decision. If they decide to turn their back on the fire and burn their behinds, then they will just have to sit on their blisters.

Surely He intends some great good to follow this mighty convulsion which no mortal could make, and no mortal could stay.

The love of property and consciousness of right and wrong have conflicting places in our organization, which often makes a man's course seem crooked, his conduct a riddle.

You already know I desire that neither Father or Mother shall be in want of any comfort either in health or sickness while they live.

God bless the soldiers and seamen, with all their brave commanders.

A day spent helping no one but yourself is a day wasted.