But there is a fatality, a feeling so irresistible and inevitable that it has the force of doom, which almost invariably compels human beings to linger around and haunt, ghost-like, the spot where some great and marked event has given the colour to their lifetime; and, still the more irresistibly, the darker the tinge that saddens it.

If human love hath power to penetrate the veil--and hath it not?--then there are yet living here a few who have the blessedness of knowing that an angel loves them.

Selfishness is one of the qualities apt to inspire love.

We sometimes congratulate ourselves.

it is a curious subject of observation and inquiry, whether hatred and love be not the same thing at bottom.

Labor is the curse of the world, and nobody can meddle with it without becoming proportionately brutalized.

The best of us being unfit to die, what an unexpressible absurdity to put the worst to death.