He that respects himself is safe from others. He wears a coat of mail that none can pierce.

The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance.

All was silent as before - All silent save the dripping rain.

In old age our bodies are worn-out instruments, on which the soul tries in vain to play the melodies of youth. But because the instrument has lost its strings, or is out of tune, it does not follow that the musician has lost his skill.

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.

What seems to us but dim funeral tapers may be heaven's distant lamps.

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