By the rude bridge that arched the flood, Their flag to April's breeze unfurled, Here once the embattled farmers stood, And fired the shot heard round the world.

Is all literature eavesdropping, and all art Chinese imitation? our life a custom, and our body borrowed, like a beggar’s dinner, from a hundred charities?

I dream of a better tomorrow, where chickens can cross the road and not be questioned about their motives.

Every reform was once a private opinion, and when it shall be a private opinion again, it will solve the problem of the age.

Happy is the house that shelters a friend! It might well be built, like a festal bower or arch, to entertain him a single day. Happier, if he know the solemnity of that relation, and honor its law! He offers himself a candidate for that covenant comes up, like an Olympian, to the great games, where the first- born of the world are the competitors.

Add energy, inspire hope, and blow the coals into a useful flame.

Love is the bright foreigner, the foreign self.