Were half the power that fills the world with terror, Were half the wealth bestowed on camps and courts, Given to redeem the human mind from error, There were no need of arsenals or forts.

Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon Like a magician extended his golden want o'er the landscape; Trinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.

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

I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows. Henceforth be mine a life of action and reality! I will work in my own sphere, nor wish it other than it is. This alone is health and happiness.

Let the dead Past bury its dead!

No literature is complete until the language it was written in is dead.

Lives of great men all remind us We can make our lives sublime, And departing, leave behind us Footprints on the sands of time.