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

The perfection of conversational intercourse is when the breeding of high life is animated by the fervor of genius.

Affection, like melancholy, magnifies trifles; but the magnifying of the one is like looking through a telescope at heavenly objects; that of the other, like enlarging monsters with a microscope.

Words are often things also, and very precious, especially on the gravest occasions. Without "words," and the truth of things that is in them, what were we?

Hair is the most delicate and lasting of our materials, and survives us, like love. It is so light, so gentle; so escaping from the idea of death, that, with a lock of hair belonging to a child or friend, we may almost look up to heaven and compare notes with the angelic nature,--may almost say, "I have a piece of thee here not unworthy of thy being now.

The same people who can deny others everything are famous for refusing themselves nothing.

With spots of sunny openings, and with nooks To lie and read in, sloping into brooks.