What a mother sings to the cradle goes all the way down to the coffin.
It is not work that kills men; it is worry. Worry is rust upon the blade.
The rarest feeling that ever lights a human face is the contentment of a loving soul.
It is one of the severest tests of friendship to tell your friend his faults. So to love a man that you cannot bear to see a stain upon him, and to speak painful truth through loving words, that is friendship.
Maple-trees are the cows of trees (spring-milked).
Indeed, unless a man can link his written thoughts with the everlasting wants of men, so that they shall draw more from them as wells, there is no more immortality to the thoughts and feelings of the soul than to the muscles and bones.