Christmas is the day that holds all time together.

If we were to live here always, with no other care than how to feed, clothe, and house ourselves, life would be a very sorry business. It is immeasurably heightened by the solemnity of death.

We bury love; Forgetfulness grows over it like grass: That is a thing to weep for, not the dead.

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

The world is not so much in need of new thoughts as that when thought grows old and worn with usage it should, like current coin, be called in, and, from the mint of genius, reissued fresh and new.

The great man is the man who does a thing for the first time.

If a man is worth knowing at all, he is worth knowing well.