The atmosphere breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers seem full of welcomes.

Even He that died for us upon the cross, in the last hour, in the unutterable agony of death, was mindful of His mother, as if to teach us that this holy love should be our last worldly thought - the last point of earth from which the soul should take its flight for heaven.

Critics are sentinels in the grand army of letters, stationed at the corners of newspapers and reviews, to challenge every new author.

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

In the mouths of many men soft words are like roses that soldiers put into the muzzles of their muskets on holidays.

Good-night! good-night! as we so oft have said Beneath this roof at midnight, in the days That are no more, and shall no more return. Thou hast but taken up thy lamp and gone to bed; I stay a little longer, as one stays To cover up the embers that still burn.

The atmosphere breathes rest and comfort, and the many chambers seem full of welcomes.