The pen has shaken nations.

O Death, what are thou? nurse of dreamless slumbers freshening the fevered flesh to a wakefulness eternal.

Error is a hardy plant; it flourisheth in every soil; In the heart of the wise and good, alike with the wicked and foolish; For there is no error so crooked, but it hath in it some lines of truth.

Hate furroweth the brow; and a man may frown till he hateth.

Humility mainly becometh the converse of man with his Maker.

To despond is to lie ungrateful beforehand. Be not looking for evil. Often thou drainest the gall of fear while evil is passing by thy dwelling.

The mines of knowledge are often laid bare by the hazel-wand of chance.