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

No literature is complete until the language it was written in is dead.

There are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble Drops some careless word, it overflows, and its secret, Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.

Nature is a revelation of God; Art a revelation of man.

Not chance of birth or place has made us friends, Being oftentimes of different tongues and nations, But the endeavor for the selfsame ends, With the same hopes, and fears, and aspirations.

People demand freedom only when they have no power.

There are favorable hours for reading a book, as for writing it.