But oftentimes celestial benedictions Assume this dark disguise.

Talk not of wasted affection - affection never was wasted.

Thus thought I, as by night I read Of the great army of the dead, The trenches cold and damp, The starved and frozen camp,-- The wounded from the battle-plain, In dreary hospitals of pain, The cheerless corridors, The cold and stony floors. Lo! in that house of misery A lady with a lamp I see Pass through the glimmering gloom And flit from room to room. And slow, as in a dream of bliss, The speechless sufferer turns to kiss Her shadow, as it falls Upon the darkening walls.

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

Ambition is so powerful a passion in the human breast, that however high we reach we are never satisfied.

If you once understand an author's character, the comprehension of his writings becomes easy.

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.