I am convinced, the longer I live, that life & its blessings are not so entirely unjustly distributed, are [as] when we are suffering greatly, we are inclined to suppose.

My evil genius Procrastination has whispered me to tarry 'til a more convenient season.

Others live on in a careless and lukewarm state - not appearing to fill Longfellow's measure: 'Into each life, some rain must fall.'

Tell me, how can I live without my Husband any longer? This is my first awakening thought each morning, and as I watch the waves of the turbulent lake under our windows I sometimes feel I should like to go under them.

In grief, words are a poor consolation - silence and agonizing tears are all that is left the sufferer.

He (Abraham Lincoln) said he wanted to visit the Holy Land and see those places hallowed by the footprints of the Saviour. He was saying there was no city he so much desired to see as Jerusalem. And with the words half spoken on his tongue, the bullet of the assassin entered the brain, and the soul of the great and good President was carried by the angels to the New Jerusalem above.

If you keep making jokes like that, somebody is going to shoot you, father.