O blest one hour like this! to rise And see grief's shadows backward roll; While bursts on unaccustomed eyes The glad Aurora of the soul.

To accept the inevitable; neither to struggle against it nor murmur at it-this is the great lesson of life.

If I had to write a book, I could not find anything in the world worth saying - as is indeed the case with many voluminous authors.

... it does not do to tell great people anything unpleasant.

A secret at home is like rocks under tide.

Let every one of us cultivate, in every word that issues from our mouth, absolute truth. I say cultivate, because to very few people - as may be noticed of most young children - does truth, this rigid, literal veracity, come by nature. To many, even who love it and prize it dearly in others, it comes only after the self-control, watchfulness, and bitter experience of years.

A parent, unlike a poet, is not born - he is made.