There is evil in every human heart, which may remain latent, perhaps, through the whole of life; but circumstances may rouse it to activity.

It is not strange that that early love of the heart should come back, as it so often does when the dim eye is brightening with its last light. It is not strange that the freshest fountains the heart has ever known in its wastes should bubble up anew when the lifeblood is growing stagnant. It is not strange that a bright memory should come to a dying old man, as the sunshine breaks across the hills at the close of a stormy day; nor that in the light of that ray, the very clouds that made the day dark should grow gloriously beautiful.

Unquestionably we do stand by our national flag as stoutly as any people in the world; and I myself have felt the heart-throb at sight of it, as sensibly as other men.

Those with whom we can apparently become well acquainted in a few moments are generally the most difficult to rightly know and to understand.

There is so much wretchedness in the world, that we may safely take the word of any mortal professing to need our assistance; and, even should we be deceived, still the good to ourselves resulting from a kind act is worth more than the trifle by which we purchase it.

If the truth were to be known, everyone would be wearing a scarlet letter of one form or another.

The sorrow that lay cold in her mother's heart... converted it into a tomb.