My heart like moon-charmed waters, all unrest.

I have learned to prize the quiet, lightning deed, not the applauding thunder at its heels that men call fame.

Death is the ugly fact which Nature has to hide, and she hides it well.

The truly great rest in the knowledge of their own deserts, nor seek the conformation of the world.

Looking forward into an empty year strikes one with a certain awe, because one finds therein no recognition. The years behind have a friendly aspect, and they are warmed by the fires we have kindled, and all their echoes are the echoes of our own voices.

Eternity doth wear upon her face the veil of time. They only see the veil, and thus they know not what they stand so near!

A man can bear a world's contempt when he has that within which says he's worthy. When he contemns himself, there burns the hell.