It is pleasant to have a kind word now and then when one is not near enough to have a kind glance or a hearty shake by the hand.

Oh may I join the choir invisible Of those immortal dead who live again In minds made better by their presence.

The worst service, I fancy, that anyone can do for truth, is to set silly people writing on its behalf.

But certain winds will make men's temper bad.

Life seems to go on without effort when I am filled with music.

I easily sink into mere absorption of what other minds have done, and should like a whole life for that alone.

Keep true, never be ashamed of doing right.