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

Cultivate simplicity or rather should I say banish elaborateness, for simplicity springs spontaneous from the heart.

Oh stay! oh stay! Joy so seldom weaves a chain Like this to-night, that oh 't is pain To break its links so soon.

I could never hate anyone I knew.

Shakespeare is one of the last books one should like to give up, perhaps the one just before the Dying Service in a large Prayer book.

Shall I ask the brave soldier who fights by my side In the cause of mankind, if our creeds agree?

Is the world all grown up? Is childhood dead? Or is there not in the bosom of the wisest and the best some of the child's heart left, to respond to its earliest enchantments?