Gradually the sunken land begins to rise again, and falls perhaps again, and rises again after that, more and more gently each time, till as it were the panting earth, worn out with the fierce passions of her fiery youth, has sobbed herself to sleep once more, and this new world of man is made.

Love can make us fiends as well as angels.

Young blood must have its course, lad, and every dog its day.

No earnest thinker is a plagiarist pure and simple. He will never borrow from others that which he has not already, more or less, thought out for himself.

So fleet the works of men, back to their earth again;Ancient and holy things fade like a dream.

Those clouds are angels' robes.

Better is old wine than new, and old friends like-wise.