The birch-bark canoe of the savage seems to me one of the most beautiful and perfect things of the kind constructed by human art.

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

The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods and meadows brown and sear.

The gay will laugh When thou art gone, the solemn brood of care Plod on, and each one as before will chase His favourite phantom; yet all these shall leave Their mirth and their employments, and shall come, And make their bed with thee.

Difficulty, my brethren, is the nurse of greatness - a harsh nurse, who roughly rocks her foster children into strength and athletic proportion.

Eloquence is the poetry of prose.

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.