Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied.

Fair words gladden so many a heart.

Were a star quenched on high,For ages would its light,Still travelling downward from the sky,Shine on our mortal sight. So when a great man dies,For years beyond our ken,The light he leaves behind him liesUpon the paths of men.

Fear is the virtue of slaves; but the heart that loveth is willing.

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

Every great poem is in itself limited by necessity, but in its suggestions unlimited and infinite.

There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.