So Nature deals with us, and takes away Our playthings one by one, and by the hand Leads us to rest.

And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.

I am weary of your quarrels, Weary of your wars and bloodshed, Weary of your prayers for vengeance, Of your wranglings and dissensions

For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.

Sit in reverie and watch the changing color of the waves that break upon the idle seashore of the mind.

As the heart is, so is love to the heart. It partakes of its strength or weakness, its health or disease.