There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer --committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.

bad literature of the sort called amusing is spiritual gin.

Mysterious haunts of echoes old and far, The voice divine of human loyalty.

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

Little children are still the symbol of the eternal marriage between love and duty.

She was no longer struggling against the perception of facts, but adjusting herself to their clearest perception.

We all remember epochs in our experience when some dear expectation dies, or some new motive is born.