The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight.

It is folly to pretend that one ever wholly recovers from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar. There are faces I can never look upon without emotion, there are names I can never hear spoken without almost starting.

Men should soon make up their minds to be forgotten, and look about them, or within them, for some higher motive in what they do than the approbation of men, which is fame, namely, their duty; that they should be constantly and quietly at work, each in his sphere, regardless of effects, and leaving their fame to take care of itself.

The soul never grows old.

With many readers, brilliancy of style passes for affluence of thought; they mistake buttercups in the grass for immeasurable gold mines under ground.

I will be a man among men; and no longer a dreamer among shadows.

Love makes its record in deeper colors as we grow out of childhood into manhood.