And lips say “God be pitiful,” Who ne'er said “God be praised.”

Oh, a day in the city-square, there is no such pleasure in life!

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

Earth's crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God: But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

The man, most man, works best for men: and, if most man indeed, he gets his manhood plainest from his soul.

My future will not copy my fair past, I wrote that once. And, thinking at my side my ministering life-angel justified the word by his appealing look upcast to the white throne of God.

Girls blush, sometimes, because they are alive, half wishing they were dead to save the shame. The sudden blush devours them, neck and brow; They have drawn too near the fire of life, like gnats, and flare up bodily, wings and all. What then? Who's sorry for a gnat or girl?