There is a joy in sorrow which none but a mourner can know.

Sorrows gather around great souls as storms do around mountains; but, like them, they break the storm and purify the air of the plain beneath them.

Gray hairs seem to my fancy like the soft light of the moon, silvering over the evening of life.

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 last, best fruit which comes to late perfection, even in the kindliest soul, is tenderness toward the hard, forbearance toward the unforbearing, warmth of heart toward the cold, philanthropy toward the misanthropic.

Humanity is never so beautiful as when praying for forgiveness, or else forgiving another.

Our birthdays are feathers in the broad wing of time.