The country is not priest-ridded, but press-ridden.

The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.

Mercy more becomes a magistrate than the vindictive wrath which men call justice.

I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart

Life is real! Life is earnest! And the grave is not its goal; Dust thou art, to dust returnest, Was not spoken of the soul.

Where'er a noble deed is wrought, Where'er is spoken a noble thought, Our hearts in glad surprise To higher levels rise.