As down in the sunless retreats of the ocean Sweet flowers are springing no mortal can see, So deep in my soul the still prayer of devotion, Unheard by the world, rises silent to Thee. As still to the star of its worship, though clouded, The needle points faithfully o'er the dim sea, So dark when I roam in this wintry world shrouded, The hope of my spirit turns trembling to Thee.

The greatest pleasure I know, is to do a good action by stealth, and to have it found out by accident.

Oh call it by some better name, For friendship sounds too cold.

Is it a stale remark to say that I have constantly found the interest excited at a playhouse to bear an exact inverse proportion to the price paid for admission?

A laugh is worth a hundred groans in any market.

Positively, the best thing a man can have to do, is nothing, and next to that perhaps — good works.

The trumpet does not more stun you by its loudness, than a whisper teases you by its provoking inaudibility.