That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

'Tis always morning somewhere, and aboveThe awakening continents, from shore to shore,Somewhere the birds are singing evermore.

The rays of happiness, like those of light, are colorless when unbroken.

Every great poem is in itself limited by necessity, but in its suggestions unlimited and infinite.

Simplicity in character, in manners, in style; in all things the supreme excellence is simplicity.

There are things of which I may not speak; There are dreams that cannot die; There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak, And bring a pallor into the cheek, And a mist before the eye.

Sunday is the golden clasp that binds together the volume of the week.