The man who suspects his own tediousness is yet to be born.

The possession of gold has ruined fewer men than the lack of it. What noble enterprises have been checked and what fine souls have been blighted in the gloom of poverty the world will never know.

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

It were better to be a soldier's widow than a coward's wife.

Those forms we fancy shadows, those strange lights That flash on dank morasses, the quick wind That smites us by the roadside—are the Night's Innumerable children. Unconfined By shroud or coffin, disembodied souls, Uneasy spirits, steal into the air From festering graveyards when the curfew tolls At the day's death... And wheresoever murders have been done, In stately palaces or lonesome woods, Where'er a soul has sold itself and lost Its high inheritance, there, hovering, broods Some sad, invisible, accurséd Ghost!

Gracious to all, to none subservient, Without offense he spoke the word he meant

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