...and to-morrow looked in my face more steadily than I could look at it

If they would rather die, . . . they had better do it, and decrease the surplus population.

... The sun does not shine upon this fair earth to meet frowning eyes, depend upon it.

Skewered through and through with office-pens, and bound hand and foot with red tape.

An evening wind uprose too, and the slighter branches cracked and rattled as they moved, in skeleton dances, to its moaning music.

Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own.

The memories which peaceful country scenes call up, are not of this world, nor of its thoughts and hopes. Their gentle influence may teach us how to weave fresh garlands for the graves of those we loved: may purify our thoughts, and bear down before it old enmity and hatred; but beneath all this, there lingers, in the least reflective mind, a vague and half-formed consciousness of having held such feelings long before, in some remote and distant time, which calls up solemn thoughts of distant times to come, and bends down pride and worldliness beneath it.