The realm of death seems an enemy's country to most men, on whose shores they are loathly driven by stress of weather; to the wise man it is the desired port where he moors his bark gladly, as in some quiet haven of the Fortunate Isles; it is the golden west into which his sun sinks, and, sinking, casts back a glory upon the leaden cloud-tack which had darkly besieged his day.

The wisest man could ask no more of fate Than to be simple, modest, manly, true, Safe from the many, honored by the few; Nothing to court in Church, or World, or State, But inwardly in secret to be great.

There are two kinds of weakness, that which breaks and that which bends.

Life is the jailer, death the angel sent to draw the unwilling bolts and set us free.

A great part of human suffering has its root in the nature of man, and not in that of his institutions.

Every person born into this world their work is born with them.

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