What are the odds so long as the fire of the soul is kindled at the taper of conviviality, and the wing of friendship never molts a feather?

And numerous indeed are the hearts to which Christmas brings a brief season of happiness and enjoyment.

Opening her eyes again, and seeing her husband's face across the table, she leaned forward to give it a pat on the cheek, and sat down to supper, declaring it to be the best face in the world.

The rich, sweet smell of the hayricks rose to his chamber window; the hundred perfumes of the little flower-garden beneath scented the air around; the deep-green meadows shone in the morning dew that glistened on every leaf as it trembled in the gentle air: and the birds sang as if every sparkling drop were a fountain of inspiration to them.

We can refute assertions, but who can refute silence?

"It wasn't the wine," murmured Mr. Snodgrass, in a broken voice. "It was the salmon."

My faith in the people governing is, on the whole, infinitesimal; my faith in the people governed is, on the whole, illimitable.