Friends should be weighed, not told; who boasts to have won a multitude of friends has never had one.

A mother is a mother still, The holiest thing alive.

The sense of beauty is intuitive, and beauty itself is all that inspires pleasure without, and aloof from, and even contrarily to interest.

The first class of readers may be compared to an hour-glass, their reading being as the sand; it runs in and runs out, and leaves not a vestige behind. A second class resembles a sponge, which imbibes everything, and returns it in nearly the same state, only a little dirtier. A third class is like a jelly-bag, which allows all that is pure to pass away, and retains only the refuse and dregs. The fourth class may be compared to the slave of Golconda, who, casting aside all that is worthless, preserves only the pure gems.

Call not that man wretched, who whatever else he suffers as to pain inflicted, or pleasure denied, has a child for whom he hopes and on whom he doats.

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

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