We are all ruled in what we do by impulses; and these impulses are so organized that our actions in general serve for our self preservation and that of the race.

Stranger, pause and look; From the dust of ages Lift this little book, Turn the tattered pages, Read me, do not let me die! Search the fading letters finding Steadfast in the broken binding All that once was I!

Martyred many times must be Who would keep his country free.

Life has no friend.

Euclid alone has looked on Beauty bare. Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace, And lay them prone upon the earth and cease To ponder on themselves, the while they stare At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere.

Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.

This book, when I am dead, will be A little faint perfume of me. People who knew me well will say, She really used to think that way.