The hearts of some women tremble like leaves at every breath of love which reaches them, and they are still again. Others, like the ocean, are moved only by the breath of a storm, and not so easily lulled to rest.

Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and silence.

Morality without religion is only a kind of dead reckoning - an endeavor to find our place on a cloudy sea by measuring the distance we have run, but without any observation of the heavenly bodies.

Noble souls, through dust and heat, rise from disaster and defeat the stronger.

Wondrous strong are the spells of fiction.

The surest pledge of a deathless name Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.

The bravest are the tenderest.