Man's most serious activity is play.

With you a part of me hath passed away; For in the peopled forest of my mind A tree made leafless by this wintry wind Shall never don again its green array. Chapel and fireside, country road and bay, Have something of their friendliness resigned; Another, if I would, I could not find, And I am grown much older in a day. But yet I treasure in my memory Your gift of charity, and young hearts ease, And the dear honour of your amity; For these once mine, my life is rich with these. And I scarce know which part may greater be,-- What I keep of you, or you rob from me.

Every real object must cease to be what it seemed, and none could ever be what the whole soul desired.

Tolerated people are never conciliated. They live on, but the aroma of their life is lost.

The body is an instrument, the mind its function, the witness and reward of its operation.

It is rash to intrude upon the piety of others: both the depth and the grace of it elude the stranger.

It is the acme of life to understand life.