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.

I think I am quite wicked with roses. I like to gather them, and smell them till they have no scent left.

The best augury of a man's success in his profession is that he thinks it the finest in the world.

Fine art, poetry, that kind of thing, elevates a nation.

There's folks as make bad butter and trusten to the salt t' hide it.

Knowledge slowly builds up what Ignorance in an hour pulls down.

All meanings, we know, depend on the key of interpretation.