My sun sets to rise again.

How good is man's life, the mere living! How fit to employ all the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy!

I dare not so honor my mere wishes and prayers as to put them for a moment beside your noble acts; but this know, I would rather submit to the worst of deaths, so far as pain goes, than have a single dog or cat tortured on the pretence of sparing me a twinge or two.

Brightest truth, purest trust in the universe, all were for me, in the kiss of one girl.

Women hate a debt as men a gift.

Needs there groan a world in anguish just to teach us sympathy?

A whole I planned, Youth shows but half; trust God: See all, nor be afraid!