There's many a good bit o' work done with a sad heart.
It is not true that love makes all things easy; it makes us choose what is difficult.
Oh may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence.
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.
... one always believes one's own town to be more stupid than any other.
Selfish— a judgment readily passed by those who have never tested their own power of sacrifice.