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.

Our American republic will endure only as long as the ideas of the men who founded it continue dominant.

We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.

The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions.

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.

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

Compromise makes a good umbrella, but a poor roof.