Here was a type of the true elder race, And one of Plutarch's men talked with us face to face.

Time makes ancient good uncouth.

In the parliament of the present every man represents a constituency of the past.

That pernicious sentiment, "Our country, right or wrong."

Folks never understand the folks they hate.

Suddenly all the sky is hid As with the shutting of a lid, One by one great drops are falling Doubtful and slow, Down the pane they are crookedly crawling, And the wind breathes low; Slowly the circles widen on the river, Widen and mingle, one and all; Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver, Struck by an icy rain-drop’s fall.

Great truths are portions of the soul of man; Great souls are portions of eternity.