I do love violets; they tell the history of woman's love.

Few save the poor feel for the poor.

no hour arrives so soon as the one we dread.

Toil is the portion of day, as sleep is that of night; but if there be one hour of the twenty-four which has the life of day without its labor, and the rest of night without its slumber, it is the lovely and languid hour of twilight.

Oh, only those whose souls have felt this one idolatry can tell how precious is the slightest thing affection gives and hallows.

There is no denying that there are 'royal roads' through existence for the upper classes; for them, at least, the highways are macadamized, swept, and watered.

A sealed book, at whose contents we tremble.