Very hot and still the air was, Very smooth the gliding river, Motionless the sleeping shadows.

The morning pouring everywhere, its golden glory on the air.

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

How wonderful is the human voice! It is indeed the organ of the soul. The intellect of man is enthroned visibly on his forehead and in his eye, and the heart of man is written on his countenance, but the soul, the soul reveals itself in the voice only.

Live up to the best that is in you: Live noble lives, as you all may, in whatever condition you may find yourselves.

Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.

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