In this world, full often, our joys are only the tender shadows which our sorrows cast.

When a man has no longer any conception of excellence above his own, his voyage is done, he is dead,--dead in trespasses and sin of blear-eyed vanity.

The mere wit is only a human bauble. He is to life what bells are to horses-not expected to draw the load, but only to jingle while the horses draw.

Like a bird she seems to wear gay plumage unconsciously, as if it grew upon her.

Do not give, as many rich men do, like a hen that lays her eggs ...and then cackles.

A door that seems to stand open must be of a man's size, or it is not the door that providence means for him.

I can forgive, but I cannot forget, is only another way of saying, I will not forgive. Forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note - torn in two, and burned up, so that it never can be shown against one.