For 'Tis not in mere death that men die most.

I begin to think that none are so bold as the timid, when they are fairly roused.

New angel mine, unhoped for in the world!

I, who had had my heart full for hours, took advantage of an early moment of solitude, to cry in it very bitterly. Suddenly a little hairy head thrust itself from behind my pillow into my face, rubbing its ears and nose against me in a responsive agitation, and drying the tears as they came.

Measure not the work until the day's out and the labor done.

The essence of all beauty, I call love.

In your patience ye are strong.