All sense of hearing and of sight enfold in the serene delight and quietude of sleep.

Wondrous strong are the spells of fiction.

What child has a heart to sing in this capricious clime of ours, when spring comes sailing in from the sea, with wet and heavy cloud-sails and the misty pennon of the east-wind nailed to the mast.

Let us then be up and doing, With a heart for any fate, Still achieving, still pursuing, Learn to labor and to wait.

It takes less time to do a thing right, than it does to explain why you did it wrong.

Every man has his secret sorrows.

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we have run, but without any observation of the heavenly bodies.