There is no better ballast for keeping the mind steady on its keel, and saving it from all risk of crankiness, than business.

Against the windows the storm comes dashing, Through tattered foliage the hail tears crashing, The blue lightning flashes, The rapid hail clashes... The thunder is rumbling And crashing and crumbling.

If one waits for the right time to come before writing, the right time never comes.

'Tis sorrow builds the shining ladder up, Whose golden rounds are our calamities, Whereon our firm feet planting, nearer God The spirit climbs, and hath its eyes unsealed. True it is that Death's face seems stern and cold When he is sent to summon those we love; But all God's angels come to us disguised; Sorrow and sickness, poverty and death, One after another, lift their frowning masks, And we behold the Seraph's face beneath, All radiant with the Glory and the calm Of having looked upon the front of God.

Did man e'er live Saw priest or woman yet forgive?

Taste is the next gift to genius.

Love lives on, and hath a power to bless when they who loved are hidden in the grave.