The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.

there is no independence and pertinacity of opinion like that of these seemingly soft, quiet creatures, whom it is so easy to silence, and so difficult to convince.

Greek is the morning land of languages, and has the freshness of early dew in it which will never exhale.

Mountains are nature's testimonials of anguish. They are the sharp cry of a groaning and travailing creation. Nature's stern agony writes itself on these furrowed brows of gloomy stone. These reft and splintered crags stand, the dreary images of patient sorrow, existing verdureless and stern because exist they must.

it isn't mere love and good-will that is needed in a sick-room; it needs knowledge and experience.

Can anybody tell what sorrows are locked up with our best affections, or what pain may be associated with every pleasure?

Religion! Is what you hear at church religion? Is that which can bend and turn, and descend and ascend, to fit every crooked phase of selfish, worldly society, religion? Is that religion which is less scrupulous, less generous, less just, less considerate for man, than even my own ungodly, worldly, blinded nature? No! When I look for religion, I must look for something above me, and not something beneath.