He gives only the worthless gold who gives from a sense of duty.

The path of nature is, indeed, a narrow one, and it is only the immortals that seek it, and, when they find it, do not find themselves cramped therein.

Sorrow is the great idealizer.

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

In creating, the only hard thing is to begin: a grass blade's no easier to make than an oak.

Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.

Things always seem fairer when we look back at them, and it is out of that inaccessible tower of the past that Longing leans and beckons.