My name is Death: the last best friend am I.

Mild arch of promise! on the evening sky Thou shinest fair with many a lovely ray, Each in the other melting.

In the days of my youth I remembered my God! And He hath not forgotten my age.

Without religion the highest endowments of intellect can only render the possessor more dangerous if he be ill disposed; if well disposed, only more unhappy.

The true one of youth's love, proving a faithful helpmate in those years when the dream of life is over, and we live in its realities.

It is not for man to rest in absolute contentment. He is born to hopes and aspirations as the sparks fly upward, unless he has brutalized his nature and quenched the spirit of immortality which is his portion.

Give me a room whose every nook is dedicated to a book.