From labor there shall come forth rest.

A torn jacket is soon mended; but hard words bruise the heart of a child.

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.

And the night shall be filled with music, And the cares, that infest the day, Shall fold their tents like the Arabs, and silently steal away.

How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!

I feel a kind of reverence for the first books of young authors. There is so much aspiration in them, so much audacious hope and trembling fear, so much of the heart's history, that all errors and shortcomings are for a while lost sight of in the amiable self assertion of youth.

Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice.