Fair words gladden so many a heart.

The motives and purposes of authors are not always so pure and high, as, in the enthusiasm of youth, we sometimes imagine. To many the trumpet of fame is nothing but a tin horn to call them home, like laborers from, the field, at dinner-time, and they think themselves lucky to get the dinner.

Nature paints not; In oils, but frescoes the great dome of heaven; With sunsets, and the lovely forms of clouds; And flying vapors.

Nothing that is can pause or stay; / The moon will wax, the moon will wane, / The mist and cloud will turn to rain, / The rain to mist and cloud again, / Tomorrow be today.

Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man's enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.

Sorrow and silence are strong, and patient endurance is godlike.

For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.