The hand betrays the heart.

Idleness, simon-pure, from which all manner of good springs like seed from a fallow soil, is sure to be misnamed and misconstrued.

Life is legal tender, and individual character stamps its value. We are from a thousand mints, and all genuine. Despite our infinitely diverse appraisements, we make change for one another. So many ideals planted are worth the great gold of Socrates; so many impious laws broken are worth John Brown.

Quotations (such as have point and lack triteness) from the great old authors are an act of reverence on the part of the quoter, and a blessing to a public grown superficial and external.

Character demonstrates itself in trifles.

The fears of what may come to pass, I cast them all away, Among the clover scented grass, Among the new-mown hay.

Family traits, like murder, will out. Nature has but so many molds.