There is a divinity within our breast.
Whether you call my heart affectionate, or you call it womanish: I confess, that to my misfortune, it is soft.
The glow of inspiration warms us; this holy rapture springs from the seeds of the Divine mind sown in man.
A man is sorry to be honest for nothing.
Habits change into character.
It is a kingly act to help the fallen.