If a man can have only one kind of sense, let him have common sense. If he has that and uncommon sense too, he is not far from genius.

There is not a heart but has its moments of longing, yearning for something better; nobler; holier than it knows now.

When our children die, we drop them into the unknown, shuddering with fear. We know that they go out from us, and we stand, and pity, and wonder.

No man knows what he will do till the right temptation comes.

We know much of a writer by his style. An open and imperious disposition is shown in short sentences, direct and energetic. A secretive and proud mind is cold and obscure in style. An affectionate and imaginative nature pours out luxuriantly, and blossoms all over with ornament.

True elegance becomes the more so as it approaches simplicity.

Mirth is the sweet wine of human life. It should be offered sparkling with zestful life unto God.