Such has often been my apathy, when objects long sought, and earnestly desired, were placed within my reach.

In this republican country, amid the fluctuating waves of our social life, somebody is always at the drowning-point.

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

Language,-human language,-after all is but little better than the croak and cackle of fowls, and other utterances of brute nature,-sometimes not so adequate.

Moonlight is sculpture.

It will startle you to see what slaves we are to by-gone times-to Death, if we give the matter the right word! ... We read in Dead Men's books! We laugh at Dead Men's jokes, and cry at Dead Men's pathos! . . . Whatever we seek to do, of our own free motion, a Dead Man's icy hand obstructs us!

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