Ah! The seasons of love roll not backward but onward, downward forever.

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

Jesus is the purest among the mighty, and the mightiest among the pure, who, with his pierced hand has raised empires from their foundations, turned the stream of history from its old channel, and still continues to rule and guide the ages

No heroine can create a hero through love of one, but she can give birth to one

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.

Like the greatest virtue and the worst dogs, the fiercest hatred is silent.

A scholar knows no boredom.