For years after Lydgate remembered the impression produced in him by this involuntary appeal-this cry from soul to soul, without other consciousness than their moving with kindred natures in the same embroiled medium, the same troublous fitfully-illuminated life.

In the vain laughter of folly wisdom hears half its applause.

Souls live on in perpetual echoes.

Unwonted circumstances may make us all rather unlike ourselves: there are conditions under which the most majestic person is obliged to sneeze, and our emotions are liable to be acted on in the same incongruous manner.

Best friend, my well-spring in the wilderness!

I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music.

trouble always seems heavier when it is only one's thought and not one's bodily activity that is employed about it.