No man is so methodical as a complete idler, and none so scrupulous in measuring out his time as he whose time is worth nothing.

History is but a kind of Newgate calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries that man has inflicted on his fellow-man.

It is not poverty so much as pretense that harasses a ruined man - the struggle between a proud mind and an empty purse - the keeping up of a hollow show that must soon come to an end.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.

Christmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.

There is in every true woman's heart, a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity, but which kindles up and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.

Great minds have purposes; others have wishes.