Might we not say to the confused voices which sometimes arise from the depths of our being: "Ladies, be so kind as to speak only four at a time?"

The very might of the human intellect reveals its limits.

I love victory, but I love not triumph.

All the joys of earth will not assuage our thirst for happiness; while a single grief suffices to shroud life in a sombre veil, and smite it with nothingness at all points.

Virtue is the daughter of Religion; Repentance, her adopted child,--a poor orphan who, without the asylum which she offers, would not know where to hide her sole treasure, her tears!

We deceive ourselves when we fancy that only weakness needs support. Strength needs it far more.

Happiness and Virtue clasp hands and walk together.