And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.

Milton almost requires a solemn service of music to be played before you enter upon him. But he brings his music, to which who listen had need bring docile thoughts and purged ears.

If there be a regal solitude, it is a sick-bed. How the patient lords it there!

In the Negro countenance you will often meet with strong traits of benignity. I have felt yearnings of tenderness towards some of these faces.

Be not frightened at the hard words "imposition," "imposture;" give and ask no questions. Cast thy bread upon the waters. Some have, unawares, entertained angels.

Clap an extinguisher upon your irony if you are unhappily blessed with a vein of it.

I allow no hot-beds in the gardens of Parnassus.