What visionary tints the year puts on, When falling leaves falter through motionless air Or numbly cling and shiver to be gone! How shimmer the low flats and pastures bare, As with her nectar Hebe Autumn fills The bowl between me and those distant hills, And smiles and shakes abroad her misty, tremulous hair!

That love for one, from which there doth not spring Wide love for all, is but a worthless thing.

Democracy is that form of society, no matter what its political classification, in which every man has a chance and knows that he has it.

Though old the thought and oft exprest, Tis his at last who says it best.

There is something magnificent in having a country to love.

A ginooine statesman should be on his guard, if he must hev beliefs, not to b'lieve 'em too hard.

Sentiment is intellectualized emotion; emotion precipitated, as it were, in pretty crystals by the fancy.