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.

There is so much to read and the days are so short! I get more hungry for knowledge every day, and less able to satisfy my hunger.

Would not love see returning penitence afar off, and fall on its neck and kiss it?

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us which would have to be taken into account in an explanation of our gusts and storms.

My own experience and development deepen every day my conviction that our moral progress may be measured by the degree in which we sympathize with individual suffering and individual joy.

I would not creep along the coast but steer Out in mid-sea, by guidance of the stars.

I know forgiveness is a man's duty, but, to my thinking, that can only mean as you're to give up all thoughts o' taking revenge: it can never mean as you're t' have your old feelings back again, for that's not possible.