Ah! What would the world be to us If the children were no more? We should dread the desert behind us Worse than the dark before.

A life that is worth writing at all is worth writing minutely.

Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest.

Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

As turning the logs will make a dull fire burn, so change of studies a dull brain.

It is curious to note the old sea-margins of human thought! Each subsiding century reveals some new mystery; we build where monsters used to hide themselves.

Art is the gift of God, and must be used unto His glory.