The Siren waits thee, singing song for song.
Children are what the mothers are.
Little men build up great ones, but the snow colossus soon melts; the good stand under the eye of God, and therefore stand.
The present, like a note in music, is nothing but as it appertains to what is past and what is to come.
Despotism sits nowhere so secure as under the effigy and ensigns of freedom.
No friendship is so cordial or so delicious as that of girl for girl; no hatred so intense and immovable as that of woman for woman.