Anger seek it prey,-- Something to tear with sharp-edged tooth and claw, Like not to go off hungry, leaving Love To feast on milk and honeycomb at will.

Life is very difficult. It seems right to me sometimes that we should follow our strongest feelings; but then such feelings continually come across the ties that all our former life has made for us,--the ties that have made others dependent on us,--and would cut them in two.

There is no killing the suspicion that deceit has once begotten.

Nothing is so good as it seems beforehand.

Some people are born to make life pretty, and others to grumble that it is not pretty enough.

Most of us who turn to any subject we love remember some morning or evening hour when we got on a high stool to reach down an untried volume, or sat with parted lips listening to a new talker, or for very lack of books began to listen to the voices within, as the first traceable beginning of our love.

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.