Who has not felt how sadly sweet The dream of home, the dream of home, Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet, When far o'er sea or land we roam?

The only true time which a man can properly call his own, is that which he has all to himself; the rest, though in some sense he may be said to live it, is other people's time, not his.

A babe is fed with milk and praise.

It is good to love the unknown.

Books think for me. I can read anything which I call a book.

We were happier when we were poorer, but we were also younger.

I could never hate anyone I knew.