Listen my children and you shall hear, Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere

A word that has been said may be unsaid-it is but air. But when a deed is done, it cannot be undone, nor can our thoughts reach out to all the mischiefs that may follow.

It is true, that it is not at all necessary to love many books, in order to love them much.

As I gaze upon the sea! All the old romantic legends, all my dreams, come back to me.

They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.

Whatever poet, orator, or sage may say of it, old age is still old age.

Out of the bosom of the Air, Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken, Over the woodlands brown and bare, Over the harvest-fields forsaken, Silent, and soft, and slow Descends the snow.