Love is the art of hearts, and heart or arts.

We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not figures on a dial. We should count time by heart throbs. He most lives who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts the best.

Man is one; and he hath one great heart. It is thus we feel, with a gigantic throb athwart the sea, each other's rights and wrongs; thus are we men.

Night brings out stars as sorrow shows us truths.

Evil and good are God's right hand and left.

Could we but think with the intensity we love with, we might do great things.

It is fine to stand upon some lofty mountain thought, and feel the spirit stretch into a view.