If God made poets for anything, it was to keep alive the traditions of the pure, the holy, and the beautiful.

And what they dare to dream of, date to do.

Metaphor is no argument, though it be sometimes the gunpowder to drive one home, and imbed it in the memory.

Some kind of pace may be got out of the eeriest jade by the near prospect of oats; but the thoroughbred has the spur in his blood.

The opening of the first grammar school was the opening of the first trench against monopoly in Church and State.

The brain can be easy to buy, but the heart never comes to market.

Who is it needs such flawless shafts as fate? What archer of his arrows is so choice, or hits the white so surely?