Joy, whose hand is ever at his lips, bidding adieu

There is an old saying "well begun is half done"-'tis a bad one. I would use instead-Not begun at all 'til half done.

There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality.

Call the world if you please "the vale of soul-making." Then you will find out the use of the world.

The only means of strengthening one's intellect is to make up one's mind about nothing, to let the mind be a thoroughfare for all thoughts.

Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away.

Stop and consider! life is but a day