As frost to the bud, and blight to the blossom, even such is self-interest to friendship; for confidence cannot dwell where selfishness is porter at the gate.

Reason refuseth its homage to a God who can be fully understood.

The pen has shaken nations.

Love looketh from the eye, and kindleth love by looking.

Men scanning the surface count the wicked happy; they see not the frightful dreams that crowd a bad man's pillow.

Hatred is the atmosphere of hell.

Knowledge is leagued with the universe, and findeth a friend in all things; but ignorance is everywhere a stranger, unwelcome; ill at ease and out of place.