Those bitter sorrows of childhood!-- when sorrow is all new and strange, when hope has not yet got wings to fly beyond the days and weeks, and the space from summer to summer seems measureless.

We must find our duties in what comes to us, not in what might have been.

There's things to put up wi' in ivery place, an' you may change an' change an' not better yourself when all's said an' done.

Memory, when duly impregnated with ascertained facts, is sometimes surprisingly fertile.

I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music. It seems to infuse strength into my limbs and ideas into my brain. Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.

O may I join the choir invisible of those immortal dead who live again in minds made better by their presence; live in pulses stirred to generosity, in deeds of daring rectitude, in scorn for miserable aims that end with self, in thoughts sublime that pierce the night like stars, and with their mild persistence urge men's search to vaster issues.

Speech may be barren; but it is ridiculous to suppose that silence is always brooding on a nestful of eggs.