There is a material advancement; we desire it. There is, also, a moral grandeur; we hold fast to it.
Life is a theatre set in which there are but few practicable entrances.
Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face.
There is something more terrible than a hell of suffering--a hell of boredom.
There is no distress so complete but that even in the most critical moments the inexplicable sunrise of hope is seen in its depths.
We say and exclaim within ourselves without breaking silence, in a tumult where everything speaks except our mouths. The realities of the soul are none the less real for being invisible and impalpable.