Nature has thrown a veil of modest beauty over maidenhood and moss-roses.

I have unlearned contempt; it is a sin that is engendered earliest in the soul, and doth beset it like a poison worm feeding on all its beauty.

Gratitude is not only the memory but the homage of the heart- rendered to God for his goodness.

There is to me a daintiness about early flowers that touches me like poetry. They blow out with such a simple loveliness among the common herbs of pastures, and breathe their lives so unobtrusively, like hearts whose beatings are too gentle for the world.

It is godlike to unloose the spirit, and forget yourself in thought.

Flirtation is a circulating library, in which we seldom ask twice for the same volume.

T is the work of many a dark hour, many a prayer, to bring the heart back from an infant gone.