Yes, child of suffering, thou may'st well be sure He who ordained the Sabbath loves the poor!

Youth fades, love droops, the leaves of friendship fall; A mother's secret hope outlives them all.

Memory is a net: one that finds it full of fish when he takes it from the brook, but a dozen miles of water have run through it without sticking.

Whatever comes from the brain carries the hue of the place it came from, and whatever comes from the heart carries the heat and color of its birthplace.

The Indian is but a sketch in red crayon of a rudimental manhood. To the problem of his relation to the white race, there is one solution: extermination.

Life as we call it, is nothing but the edge of the boundless ocean of existence when it comes upon soundings.

Some people are so heavenly minded that they are no earthly good.