O, what an untold world there is in one human heart!

Strange, what brings these past things so vividly back to us, sometimes!

Sweet souls around us watch us still, press nearer to our side; Into our thoughts, into our prayers, with gentle helpings glide.

Any mind that is capable of real sorrow is capable of good.

Children will grow up substantially what they are by nature--and only that.

Talk of the abuses of slavery! Humbug! The thing itself is the essence of all abuse!

For how imperiously, how coolly, in disregard of all one’s feelings, does the hard, cold, uninteresting course of daily realities move on! Still we must eat, and drink, and sleep, and wake again, - still bargain, buy, sell, ask and answer questions, - pursue, in short, a thousand shadows, though all interest in them be over; the cold, mechanical habit of living remaining, after all vital interest in it has fled.