The exact measure of the progress of civilization is the degree in which the intelligence of the common mind has prevailed over wealth and brute force.

Libraries collect the works of genius of every language and every age.

The charities of life are scattered everywhere, enameling the vales of human beings as the flowers paint the meadows. They are not the fruit of study, nor the privilege of refinement, but a natural instinct.

Where the people possess no authority, their rights obtain no respect.

Institutions may crumble and governments fall, but it is only that they may renew a better youth, and mount upwards like the eagle.

Beauty is but the sensible image of the infinite. Like truth and justice, it lives within us; like virtue and the moral law, it is a companion of the soul.

By common consent, gray hairs are a crown of glory: the only object of respect that can never excite envy.