In what a forge and what a heat were shaped the anchors of thy hope! Fear not each sudden sound and shock; 'Tis of the wave and not the rock.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

The natural alone is permanent. Fantastic idols may be worshipped for a while; but at length they are overturned by the continual and silent progress of Truth, as the grim statues of Copan have been pushed from their pedestals by the growth of forest-trees, whose seeds were sown by the wind in the ruined walls.

Sail on ship of state, sail on, I union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, with all its hopes of future years, is hanging on thy fate!

Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.

Through woods and mountain passes The winds, like anthems, roll.

The lowest ebb is the turn of the tide.