Often times we call a man [or woman] cold when he [or she] is only sad.

To be infatuated with the power of one's own intellect is an accident which seldom happens but to those who are remarkable for the want of intellectual power. Whenever Nature leaves a hole in a person's mind, she generally plasters it over with a thick coat of self-conceit.

The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone.

Dreams or illusions, call them what you will, they lift us from the commonplace of life to better things.

White swan of cities slumbering in thy nest . . . White phantom city, whose untrodden streets Are rivers, and whose pavements are the shifting Shadows of the palaces and strips of sky.

There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.

Look, then, into thine heart, and write!