The martyr cannot be dishonored. Every lash inflicted is a tongue of fame; every prison a more illustrious abode.

I didn't find my friends; the good Lord gave them to me.

What is it men love in Genius, but its infinite hope, which degrades all it has done? Genius counts all its miracles poor and short. Its own idea it never executed.

Time dissipates to shining ether the solid angularity of facts.

What forests of laurel we bring, and the tears of mankind, to those who stood firm against the opinion of their contemporaries!

Let the reader find that he cannot afford to omit any line of your writing because you you have omitted every word that he can spare.

In the death of my son, now more than two years ago, I seem to have lost a beautiful estate,--no more. I cannot get it nearer to me.