There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.

Those flimsy webs that break as soon as wrought, attain not to the dignity of thought.

Ye therefore who love mercy, teach your sons to love it, too.

Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.

It is a terrible thought, that nothing is ever forgotten; that not an oath is ever uttered that does not continue to vibrate through all times, in the wide spreading current of sound; that not a prayer is lisped, that its record is not to be found st

O, popular applause! what heart of man is proof against thy sweet, seducing charms?

If my resolution to be a great man was half so strong as it is to despise the shame of being a little one.