Wine and the sun will make vinegar without any shouting to help them.

All things journey: sun and moon, Morning, noon, and afternoon, Night and all her stars; 'Twixt the east and western bars Round they journey, Come and go! We go with them!

I shall do everything it becomes me to do.

Speech may be barren; but it is ridiculous to suppose that silence is always brooding on a nestful of eggs.

In the first moments when we come away from the presence of death, every other relation to the living is merged, to our feeling, in the great relation of a common nature and a common destiny.

Some people are born to make life pretty, and others to grumble that it is not pretty enough.

Will not a tiny speck very close to our vision blot out the glory of the world, and leave only a margin by which we see the blot? I know no speck so troublesome as self.