A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.

Death but supplies the oil for the inextinguishable lamp of life.

I do not call the sod under my feet my country; but language-religion-government-blood-identity in these makes men of one country.

It is a gentle and affectionate thought, that in immeasurable height above us, at our first birth, the wreath of love was woven with sparkling stars for flowers.

Real pain can alone cure us of imaginary ills. We feel a thousand miseries till we are lucky enough to feel misery.

I have found words [in the Bible] for my inmost thoughts, songs for my joy, utterances for my hidden griefs, and pleadings for my shame and my feebleness.

The annals of the French Revolution prove that the knowledge of the few cannot counteract the ignorance of the many.... The light of philosophy, when it is confined to a small minority, points out the possessors as the victims rather than the illuminators of the multitude.