It seems to me that the bane of our country is a profession of faith either with no basis of real belief, or with no proper examination of the grounds on which the creed is supposed to rest.

A weed is no more than a flower in disguise, Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.

Some kind of pace may be got out of the eeriest jade by the near prospect of oats; but the thoroughbred has the spur in his blood.

The victory's in believing.

There is something solid and doughty in the man that can rise from defeat, the stuff of which victories are made in due time, when we are able to choose our position better, and the sun is at our back.

A great man is made up of qualities that meet or make great occasions.

The mind can weave itself warmly in the cocoon of its own thoughts, and dwell a hermit anywhere.