The setting of a great hope is like the setting of the sun. The brightness of our life is gone. Shadows of evening fall around us, and the world seems but a dim reflection - itself a broader shadow. We look forward into the coming lonely night. The soul withdraws into itself. Then stars arise, and the night is holy.

The air is full of farewells to the dying. And mournings for the dead.

The greatest grace of a gift, perhaps, is that it anticipates and admits of no return.

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.

Look upon the errors of others in sorrow, not in anger.

What shall I say to you? What can I say Better than silence is?

A boy's will is the wind's will, and the thought's of youth are long, long thoughhts