There is nothing so skillful in its own defense as imperious pride.

Now and then one sees a face which has kept its smile pure and undefiled. Such a smile transfigures; such a smile, if the artful but know it, is the greatest weapon a face can have.

I shall be found with 'Indians' engraved on my brain when I am dead. A fire has been kindled within me, which will never go out.

I know the lands are lit, with all the autumn blaze of Goldenrod.

By all these lovely tokens September days are here, With summer's best of weather And autumn's best of cheer.

O sweet, delusive Noon, Which the morning climbs to find, O moment sped too soon, And morning left behind.

Wounded vanity knows when it is mortally hurt; and limps off the field, piteous, all disguises thrown away. But pride carries its banner to the last; and fast as it is driven from one field unfurls it in another, never admitting that there is a shade less honor in the second field than in the first, or in the third than in the second.