Christmas is the day that holds all time together.
Trifles make up the happiness or the misery of mortal life.
Nature never quite goes along with us. She is somber at weddings, sunny at funerals, and she frowns on ninety-nine out of a hundred picnics.
Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.
The great man is the man who does a thing for the first time.
We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.