The nurse of full-grown souls is solitude.

The soil out of which such men as he are made is good to be born on, good to live on, good to die for and to be buried in.

How I do love the earth. I feel it thrill under my feet. I feel somehow as if it were conscious of my love, as if something passed into my dancing blood from it.

Over our manhood bend the skies; Against our fallen and traitor lives The great winds utter prophecies; With our faint hearts the mountain strives, Its arms outstretched, the druid wood Waits with its benedicite And to our age’s drowsy blood Still shouts the inspiring sea.

Endurance is the crowning quality, And patience all the passion of great hearts.

This imputation of inconsistency is one to which every sound politician and every honest thinker must sooner or later subject himself. The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinion.

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