Not childhood alone, but the young man till thirty, never feels practically that he is mortal.

To be thankful for what we grasp exceeding our proportion is to add hypocrisy to injustice.

Those evening bells! those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime!

I cannot sit and think; books think for me.

Alas! how light a cause may move Dissension between hearts that love! Hearts that the world in vain had tried, And sorrow but more closely tied; That stood the storm when waves were rough, Yet in a sunny hour fall off, Like ships that have gone down at sea When heaven was all tranquillity.

Of all sound of all bells... most solemn and touching is the peal which rings out the Old Year.

How sickness enlarges the dimension of a man’s self to himself!