The game of life looks cheerful when one carries a treasure safe in his heart.

Art is the right hand of Nature.

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.

The painter is, as to the execution of his work, a mechanic; but as to his conception and spirit and design he is hardly below even the poet.

Let him that sows the serpent's teeth not hope to reap a joyous harvest. Every crime has, in the moment of its perpetration, its own avenging angel,--dark misgivings at the inmost heart.

The first great law is to obey.

Many a smiling face hides a mourning heart; but grief alone teaches us what we are.