The only compensation which war offers for its manifold mischiefs, is in the great personal qualities to which it gives scope and occasion.

Sleep is not, death is not; Who seem to die Live. House you were born in, Friends of your spring-time, old man and young maid, Day's toil and it's guerdon, They are all vanishing, Fleeing to fables, Cannot be moored

The only true gifts are a portion of yourself.

And yet--it is not beauty that inspires the deepest passion. Beauty without grace is the hook without the bait. Beauty, without expression, tires.

What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.[What is a sorrow? A feeling whose benefits have not yet been discovered]

Man's life is a progress, not a station.

For everything you have missed, you have gained something else, and for everything you gain, you lose something else.