A ginooine statesman should be on his guard, if he must hev beliefs, not to b'lieve 'em too hard.

Dear common flower, that grow'st beside the way, Fringing the dusty road with harmless gold, First pledge of blithesome May, Which children pluck, and, full of pride uphold.

Fortune is the rod of the weak, and the staff of the brave.

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

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

They talk about their Pilgrim blood, their birthright high and holy! a mountain-stream that ends in mud thinks is melancholy.

It may be glorious to write Thoughts that shall glad the two or three High souls, like those far stars that come in sight Once in a century.