What a fool is he who locks his door to keep out spirits, who has in his own bosom a spirit he dares not meet alone; whose voice, smothered far down, and piled over with mountains of earthliness, is yet like the forewarning trumpet of doom!
Harriet Beecher StoweThere are in this world two kinds of natures, - those that have wings, and those that have feet, - the winged and the walking spirits. The walking are the logicians; the winged are the instinctive and poetic.
Harriet Beecher StoweMidnight,--strange mystic hour,--when the veil between the frail present and the eternal future grows thin.
Harriet Beecher Stowe