It is in these acts called trivialities that the seeds of joy are forever wasted, until men and women look round with haggard faces at the devastation their own waste has made, and say, the earth bears no harvest of sweetness - calling their denial knowledge.

If the past is not to bind us, where can duty lie? We should have no law but the inclination of the moment.

Childhood has no forebodings; but then, it is soothed by no memories of outlived sorrow.

Man cannot choose his duties.

A friend is one to whom one may pour out the contents of one's heart, chaff and grain together, knowing that gentle hands will take and sift it, keep what is worth keeping, and with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.

To have in general but little feeling, seems to be the only security against feeling too much on any particular occasion.

The tread Of coming footsteps cheats the midnight watcher Who holds her heart and waits to hear them pause, And hears them never pause, but pass and die.