Philosophy is the rational expression of genius.

Friendship, sweet-resting place of the soul, the gloaming wherein our hearts find peace.

Private passions grow tired and wear themselves out; political passions, never.

Poetry is the morning dream of great minds.

The loss of a mother is always keenly felt, even if her health be such as to incapacitate her from taking an active part in the care of the family. She is the sweet rallying-point for affection, obedience, and a thousand tendernesses. Dreary the blank when she is withdrawn!

Yet, in these autumn days when Nature expires, Here, in these veiled scenes, I find more attractions; It is a friend's sad goodbye; it is the last smile From lips that death is going to close forever!

Grief knits two hearts in closer bonds than happiness ever can; and common sufferings are far stronger links than common joys.