Were not the eye made to receive the rays of the sun, it could not behold the sun; if the peculiar power of God lay not in us, how could the godlike charm us?
Hope enough to remove all anxious fears concerning the future.
Writing is busy idleness.
We are our own devils; we drive ourselves out of our Edens.
Everything that frees our spirit without giving us control of ourselves is ruinous.
A vi'let on the meadow grew, That no one saw, that no one knew, It was a modest flower. A shepherdess pass'd by that way-- Light footed, pretty and so gay; That way she came, Softly warbling forth her lay.