Alas! When duty grows thy law, enjoyment fades away.

Whatever lives, lives to die in sorrow. We engage our hearts, and grasp after the things of this world, only to undergo the pang of losing them.

A childlike mind in its simplicity practises that science of good to which the wise may be blind.

It is not the mere station of life that stamps the value on us, but the manner in which we act our part.

The dictates of the heart are the voice of fate.

I speak with the Eternal through the instrument of nature, through the world's history: I read the soul of the artist in his Apollo.

Futurity is impregnable to mortal ken: no prayer pierces through heaven's adamantine walls. Whether the birds fly right or left, whatever be the aspect of the stars, the book of nature is a maze, dreams are a lie, and every sign a falsehood.