Beauty hath no true glass, except it be in the sweet privacy of loving eyes.

It is not the insurrections of ignorance that are dangerous, but the revolts of the intelligence.

A word once vulgarized can never be rehabilitated.

AND what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten.

Beauty hath no true glass, except it be in the sweet privacy of loving eyes.

Life is constantly weighing us in very sensitive scales, and telling every one of us precisely what his real weight is to the last grain of dust.

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide.