That indescribable expression peculiar to people who hope they have not been asleep, but know they have.

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

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.

There cannot be found in the animal kingdom a bat, or any other creature, so blind in its own range of circumstance and connection, as the greater majority of human beings are in the bosoms of their families

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

Nothing can be so bad as to be displeased with one's self.

If I could write a story that would do for the Indian one-hundredth part what 'Uncle Tom's Cabin' did for the Negro, I would be thankful the rest of my life.