What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness, Star-dust, or sea-foam, flower or winged air.

No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Eden's freshness and man's fall No rose has been original.

They fail, and they alone, who have not striven.

Sorrow itself is not so hard to bear As the thought of sorrow coming. Airy ghosts, That work no harm, do terrify us more Than men in steel with bloody purposes. Death is not dreadful; 'tis the dread of death— We die whene'er we think of it!

It is the Lord's Day, and I do believe that cheerful hearts and faces are not unpleasant in His sight.

Great orators who are not also great writers become very indistinct shadows to the generations following them. The spell vanishes with the voice.

Between the reputation of the author living and the reputation of the same author dead there is ever a wide discrepancy.