The snow had begun in the gloaming, and busily all the night had been heaping field and highway with a silence deep and white.

When I was a beggarly boy, And lived in a cellar damp, I had not a friend nor a toy, But I had Aladdin's lamp.

No mud can soil us but the mud we throw.

Reading enables us to see with the keenest eyes, to hear with the finest ears, and listen to the sweetest voices of all time.

As life runs on, the road grows strange with faces new - and near the end. The milestones into headstones change, Neath every one a friend.

Metaphor is no argument, though it be sometimes the gunpowder to drive one home, and imbed it in the memory.

Good heavens, of what un costly material is our earthly happiness composed... if we only knew it. What incomes have we not had from a flower, and how unfailing are the dividends of the seasons.