The secret studies of an author are the sunken piers upon which is to rest the bridge of his fame, spanning the dark waters of oblivion. They are out of sight, but without them no superstructure can stand secure.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

And as she looked around, she saw how Death the consoler, Laying his hand upon many a heart, had healed it forever.

The first pressure of sorrow crushes out from our hearts the best wine; afterwards the constant weight of it brings forth bitterness, the taste and stain from the lees of the vat.

"Do not fear! Heaven is as near," He said, "by water as by land!"

If the mind, that rules the body, ever so far forgets itself as to trample on its slave, the slave is never generous enough to forgive the injury, but will rise and smite the oppressor.

If we love one another, nothing, in truth, can harm us, whatever mischances may happen.