Attention is the stuff that memory is made of, and memory is accumulated genius.

A friendship counting nearly forty years is the finest kind of shade-tree I know.

The pale and quiet moon Makes her calm forehead bare, And the last fragments of the storm, Like shattered rigging from a fight at sea, Silent and few, are drifting over me.

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.

Earth's noblest thing,-a woman perfected.

Truth, after all, wears a different face to everybody, and it would be too tedious to wait till all were agreed.

If I were asked what book is better than a cheap book, I should answer that there is one book better than a cheap book, - and that is a book honestly come by.