If you can speak what you will never hear, if you can write what you will never read, you have done rare things.

A man's whole life is taxed for the least thing well done. It is its net result.

Law never made men a whit more just; and, by means of their respect for it, even the well-disposed are daily made the agents of injustice.

What other words, we may almost ask, are memorable and worthy to be repeated than those which love has inspired? It is wonderful that they were ever uttered. They are few and rare indeed, but, like a strain of music, they are incessantly repeated and modulated by the memory. All other words crumble off with the stucco which overlies the heart. We should not dare to repeat these now aloud. We are not competent to hear them at all times.

Then at night the general stillness is more impressive than any sound, but occasionally you hear the note of an owl farther or nearer in the woods, and if near a lake, the semihuman cry of the loons at their unearthly revels.

Undoubtedly, in the most brilliant successes, the first rank is always sacrificed.

It is a ridiculous demand which England and America make, that you shall speak so that they can understand you. Neither men nor toadstools grow so.