My day is closed! the gloom of night is come! a hopeless darkness settles over my fate.

To make the cunning artless, tame the rude, subdue the haughty, shake the undaunted soul; yea, put a bridle in the lion's mouth, and lead him forth as a domestic cur,--these are the triumphs of all-powerful beauty.

A good man's prayers will from the deepest dungeon climb heaven's height, and bring a blessing down.

I wish I were with some of the wild people that run in the woods, and know nothing about accomplishments!

O mysterious Night! thou art not silent; many tongues halt thou.

A willing heart adds feather to the heel.

I believe this earth on which we stand is but the vestibule to glorious mansions through which a moving crowd forever press.