Remorse is virtue's root; its fair increase is fruits of innocence and blessedness.

Poetry is the eloquence of verse.

To him who in the love of Nature holds Communion with her visible forms, she speaks A various language.

The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.

Genius, with all its pride in its own strength, is but a dependent quality, and cannot put forth its whole powers nor claim all its honors without an amount of aid from the talents and labors of others which it is difficult to calculate.

The journalist should be on his guard against publishing what is false in taste or exceptionable in morals.

The rose that lives its little hour Is prized beyone the sculpted flower.