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.

Some books seem to have been written, not to teach us anything, but to let us know that the author has known something.

Every individual who is not creative has a negative, narrow, exclusive taste and succeeds in depriving creative being of its energy and life.

Nothing shows a man's character more than what he laughs at.

The deed is everything, the glory is naught.

It is working within limits that the craftsman reveals himself.

Superstition is the poesy of practical life; hence, a poet is none the worse for being superstitious.