Life is short - while we speak it flies; enjoy, then, the present, and forget the future; such is the moral of ancient poetry, a graceful and a wise moral - indulged beneath a southern sky, and all deserving, the phrase applied to it - the philosophy of the garden.

Archaeology is not only the hand maid of history, it is also the conservator of art.

The veil which covers the face of futurity is woven by the hand of mercy.

He who writes prose builds his temple to Fame in rubble; he who writes verses builds it in granite.

Remorse is the echo of a lost virtue.

Men never forgive those in whom there is nothing to pardon.

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