How beautiful the silent hour, when morning and evening thus sit together, hand in hand, beneath the starless sky of midnight!

We are all architects of faith, ever living in these walls of time.

The everyday cares and duties, which men call drudgery, are the weights and counterpoises of the clock of time, giving its pendulum a true vibration and its hands a regular motion; and when they cease to hang upon its wheels, the pendulum no longer swings, the hands no longer move the clock stands still.

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

To be left alone, and face to face with my own crime, had been just retribution.

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.

They who go Feel not the pain of parting; it is they Who stay behind that suffer.