My heart was a habitation large enough for many guests, but lonely and chill, and without a household fire. I longed to kindle one! It seemed not so wild a dream.

A grave, wherever found, preaches a short and pithy sermon to the soul.

I have laughed, in bitterness and agony of heart, at the contrast between what I seem and what I am!

Just as there comes a warm sunbeam into every cottage window, so comes a lovebeam of God's care and pity for every separate need.

What a happy and holy fashion it is that those who love one another should rest on the same pillow.

Genius, indeed, melts many ages into one, and thus effects something permanent, yet still with a similarity of office to that of the more ephemeral writer. A work of genius is but the newspaper of a century, or perchance of a hundred centuries.

A stale article, if you dip it in a good, warm, sunny smile, will go off better than a fresh one that you've scowled upon.