Once, in an age, God sends to some of us a friend who loves in us, not a false imagining, an unreal character, but, looking through all the rubbish of our imperfections, loves in us the divine ideal of our nature, — loves, not the man that we are, but the angel that we may be.

It is always our treasure that the lightning strikes.

There is more done with pens than with swords.

I 'spect I growed. Don't think nobody never made me.

One part of the science of living is to learn just what our own responsibility is, and to let other people's alone.

I never thought my book would turn so many people against slavery.

So subtle is the atmosphere of opinion that it will make itself felt without words.