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

The moving moon went up the sky, And nowhere did abide: Softly she was going up, And a star or two beside.

An orphan's curse would drag to hell, a spirit from on high; but oh! more horrible than that, is a curse in a dead man's eye!

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.

With no other privilege than that of sympathy and sincere good wishes, I would address an affectionate exhortation to the youthful literati, grounded on my own experience. It will be but short; for the beginning, middle, and end converge to one charge: NEVER PURSUE LITERATURE AS A TRADE.

How strange and awful is the synthesis of life and death in the gusty winds and falling leaves of an autumnal day!

All powerful souls have kindred with each other