The ideal of beauty is simplicity and tranquility.

At the end of life thoughts hitherto impossible come to the collected mind, like good spirits which let themselves down from the shining heights of the past.

Every author in some way portrays himself in his works, even if it be against his will.

Sin writes histories, goodness is silent.

Lamps make oil-spots and candles need snuffing; it is only the light of heaven that shines pure and leaves no stain.

Alas! how much there is in education, and in our social institutions, to prepare us and our children for insanity.

We are shaped and fashioned by what we love