Poverty has strange bedfellows.

To dispense with ceremony is the most delicate mode of conferring a compliment.

Alone!-that worn-out word, So idly spoken, and so coldly heard; Yet all that poets sing and grief hath known Of hopes laid waste, knells in that word ALONE!

Society is a long series of uprising ridges, which from the first to the last offer no valley of repose. Whenever you take your stand, you are looked down upon by those above you, and reviled and pelted by those below you. Every creature you see is a farthing Sisyphus, pushing his little stone up some Liliputian mole-hill. This is our world.

It is a glorious fever, desire to know.

What men want is not talent, it is purpose; in other words, not the power to achieve, but the will to labor.

We must remember how apt man is to extremes--rushing from credulity and weakness to suspicion and distrust.