Two aged men, that had been foes for life, Met by a grave, and wept - and in those tears They washed away the memory of their strife; Then wept again the loss of all those years.

The words that a father speaks to his children in the privacy of home are not heard by the world, but, as in whispering galleries, they are clearly heard at the end, and by posterity.

Passion makes the best observations and the sorriest conclusions.

Universal love is a glove without fingers, which fits all bands alike and none closely; but true affection is like a glove with fingers, which fits one hand only, and sits close to that one.

The look of a king is itself a deed.

What a father says to his children is not heard by the world, but it will be heard by posterity.

God is an unutterable sigh, planted in the depths of the soul.