Those who have lost an infant are never, in a way, without an infant.

It flows through old hushed Egypt and its sands, Like some grave mighty thought threading a dream, And times and things, as in that vision, seem Keeping along it their eternal stands.

We really cannot see what equanimity there is in jerking a lacerated carp out of the water by the jaws, merely because it has no the power of making a noise; for we presume that the most philosophic of anglers would hardly delight in catching a shrieking fish.

Colors are the smiles of nature.

Great women belong to history and to self-sacrifice, not to the annals of a stage, however dignified.

To receive a present handsomely and in a right spirit, even when you have none to give in return, is to give one in return.

The last excessive feelings of delight are always grave.