Earth has one angel less and heaven one more, since yesterday.

When scattered clouds are resting on the bosoms of hills, it seems as if one might climb into the heavenly region, earth being so intermixed with sky, and gradually transformed into it.

The love of posterity is the consequence of the necessity of death. If a man were sure of living forever here, he would not care about his offspring.

In the depths of every heart, there is a tomb and a dungeon, though the lights, the music, and revelry above may cause us to forget their existence, and the buried ones, or prisoners whom they hide. But sometimes, and oftenest at midnight, those dark receptacles are flung wide open. In an hour like this, when the mind has a passive sensibility, but no active strength; when the imagination is a mirror, imparting vividness to all ideas, without the power of selecting or controlling them; then pray that your grieves may slumber, and the brotherhood of remorse not break their chain.

Men of cold passions have quick eyes.

It is to the credit of human nature that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates.

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.