Eloquence is the poetry of prose.

Christ taught an astonishing thing about physical death: not merely that it is an experience robbed of its terror but that as an experience it does not exist at all. To "sleep in Christ," like one that wraps the drapery of his couch about him, and lies down to pleasant dreams.

Still sweet with blossoms is the year's fresh prime.

Truth gets well if she is run over by a locomotive, while error dies of lockjaw if she scratches her finger.

All great poets have been men of great knowledge.

It is said to be the manner of hypochondriacs to change often their physician.

Truth crushed to earth shall rise again,- The eternal years of God are hers; But Error, wounded, writhes with pain, And dies among his worshippers.