Plunge boldly into the thick of life, and seize it where you will, it is always interesting.

There is but one poetry,--true poetry.

The mortal race is far too weak not to grow dizzy on unwonted brights.

I consider him of no account who esteems himself just as the popular breath may chance to raise him.

The day is committed to error and floundering; success and achievement are matters of long range.

It is always a sign of an unproductive time when it concerns itself with petty and technical aspects [in philology], and likewiseit is a sign of an unproductive person to pursue such trifles.

So then the year is repeating its old story again. We are come once more, thank God! to its most charming chapter. The violets and the Mayflowers are as its inscriptions or vignettes. It always makes a pleasant impression on us, when we open again at these pages of the book of life.