The soul never grows old.

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

Authors must not, like Chinese soldiers, expect to win victories by turning somersets in the air.

Among the noblest in the land - Though man may count himself the least - That man I honor and revere, Who without favor, without fear, In the great city dares to stand, The friend of every friendless beast.

A spirit of criticism, if indulged in, leads to a censoriousness of disposition that is destructive of all nobler feeling. The man who lives to find faults has a miserable mission.

But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.

The hooded clouds, like friars, Tell their beads in drops of rain.