We are all of us imaginative in some form or other, for images are the brood of desire.

It is a common enough case, that of a man being suddenly captivated by a woman nearly the opposite of his ideal.

"Abroad," that large home of ruined reputations.

Blessed is the influence of one true, loving human soul on another.

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

There is no feeling, perhaps, except the extremes of fear and grief, that does not find relief in music,--that does not make a man sing or play the better.

There is no despair so absolute as that which comes with the first moments of our first great sorrow, when we have not yet known what it is to have suffered and be healed, to have despaired and have recovered hope.