Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.

How beautiful is youth! how bright it gleams with its illusions, aspirations, dreams! Book of Beginnings, Story without End, Each maid a heroine, and each man a friend!

Chill air and wintry winds! My ear has grown familiar with your song; I hear it in the opening year, I listen, and it cheers me long.

Resolve and thou art free.

O beautiful, awful summer day, what hast thou given, what taken away?

He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.

He looks the whole world in the face for he owes not any man.