And the commencement of atonement is the sense of its necessity.
In solitude, where we are least alone.
Are not the mountains, waves, and skies as much a part of me, as I of them?
Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.
It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flatter; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to the voice of friendship
A drop of ink may make a million think.