All speech, written or spoken, is a dead language, until it finds a willing and prepared hearer.

A knowledge that another has felt as we have felt, and seen things not much otherwise than we have seen them, will continue to the end to be one of life's choicest blessings.

Every heart that has beat strongly and cheerfully has left a hopeful impulse behind it in the world, and bettered the tradition of mankind.

Sing a song of seasons; something bright in all, flowers in the summer, fires in the fall.

Little do ye know your own blessedness; for to travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive, and the true success is to labour.

No man is useless while he has a friend.

Under the wide and starry sky, Dig the grave and let me lie. Glad did I live and gladly die, And I lay me down with a will. This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be: Home is the sailor, home from the sea, And the hunter home from the hill.