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

The bravest are the tenderest.

If you once understand an author's character, the comprehension of his writings becomes easy.

For it is the fate of a woman Long to be patient and silent, to wait like a ghost that is speechless, Till some questioning voice dissolves the spell of its silence. Hence is the inner life of so many suffering women Sunless and silent and deep, like subterranean rivers Runnng through caverns of darkness.

Love is a bodily shape; and Christian works are no more than animate faith and love, as flowers are the animate springtide.

It is Lucifer, The son of mystery; And since God suffers him to be, He too, is God's minister, And labors for some good By us not understood.

Be still, sad heart! and cease repining; Behind the clouds is the sun still shining; Thy fate is the common fate of all, Into each life some rain must fall