It is not death to have the body called back to the earth, and dissolved into its kindred elements, and mouldered to dust, and, it may be, turn to daisies, in the grave. But it is death to have the soul paralyzed, its inner life quenched, its faculties dissipated; that is death.

The individual and the race are always moving, and as we drift into new latitudes new lights open in the heaven more immediately over us.

Impatience dries the blood sooner than age or sorrow.

The highest genius never flowers in satire, but culminates in sympathy with that which is best in human nature, and appeals to it.

Events are only the shells of ideas; and often it is the fluent thought of ages that is crystallized in a moment by the stroke of a pen or the point of a bayonet.

No language can express the power and beauty and heroism of a mother's love.

The downright fanatic is nearer to the heart of things than the cool and slippery disputant.