There is a chord in every heart that has a sigh in it if touched aright.

In its permission to man to render subject to him all other living creatures of the earth, it continued the cruelty of the barbarian and the pagan, and endowed these with what appeared a divine authority.

Could we see when and where we are to meet again, we would be more tender when we bid our friends goodbye.

It is hard work to be good when you are very little and very hungry, and have many sticks to beat you, and no mother's lips to kiss you.

Love is cruel as the grave.

Death! It is rest to the aged, it is oblivion to the atheist, it is immortality to the poet!

for what is the gift of the poet and the artist except to see the sights which others cannot see and to hear the sounds that others cannot hear?