How many of us have been attracted to reason; first learned to think, to draw conclusions, to extract a moral from the follies of life, by some dazzling aphorism.

Tell me, sweet eyes, from what divinest star did ye drink in your liquid melancholy?

Every man loves and admires his own country because it produced him.

In one of the Welsh counties is a small village called A-----. It is somewhat removed from the high road, and is, therefore, but little known to those luxurious amateurs of the picturesque, who view nature through the windows of a carriage and four.

When a person is down in the world, an ounce of help is better than a pound of preaching.

Death is the only monastery; the tomb is the only cell, and the grave that adjoins the convent is the bitterest mock of its futility.

Nothing is so contagious as enthusiasm.