Time is, after all, the greatest of poets; and the sons of Memory stand a better chance of being the heirs of Fame.
He who keeps his faith only, cannot be discrowned.
What men call luck Is the prerogative of valiant souls, The fealty life pays its rightful kings.
Many-sidedness of culture makes our vision clearer and keener in particulars.
Not suffering, but faint heart, is worst of woes.
It is only the intellect that can be thoroughly and hideously wicked. It can forget everything in the attainment of its ends. The heart recoils; in its retired some drops of childhood's dew still linger, defying manhood's fiery noon.