A cunning man overreaches no one half as much as himself.

Expedients are for an hour, but principles are for the ages. Just because the rains descend and winds blow, we cannot afford to build on shifting sands.

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.

It gives one a sudden start in going down a barren, stoney street, to see upon a narrow strip of grass, just within the iron fence, the radiant dandelion, shining in the grass, like a spark dropped from the sun.

Our sweetest experiences of affection are meant to be suggestions of that realm which is the home of the heart.

We only see in a lifetime a dozen faces marked with the peace of a contented spirit.

There is an army of waiters in this world.