What a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous embowelments of lead and brass, its pert or solemn dullness of communication, compared with the simple altar-like structure and silent heart-language of the old sundials! It stood as the garden god of Christian gardens. Why is it almost everywhere vanished? If its business-use be superseded by more elaborate inventions, its moral uses, its beauty, might have pleaded for its continuance.

There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet As that vale in whose bosom the bright waters meet.

To pile up honey upon sugar, and sugar upon honey, to an interminable tedious sweetness.

I cannot sit and think; books think for me.

A babe is fed with milk and praise.

You look wise, pray correct that error.

Philanthropy, like charity, must begin at home.