The way of Providence is a little rude. The habit of snake and spider, the snap of the tiger and other leapers and bloody jumpers, the crackle of the bones of his prey in the coil of the anaconda-these are in the system, and our habits are like theirs.

Who leaves the pine-tree, leaves his friend, Unnerves his strength, invites his end.

Art is a jealous mistress.

The aid we can give each other is only incidental, lateral, and sympathetic.

A little integrity is better than any career.

A man must ride alternately on the horses of his private and his public nature.

Give me wine to wash me clean of the weather-stains of cares