In the nine heavens are eight Paradises; Where is the ninth one? In the human breast. Only the blessed dwell in th' Paradises, But blessedness dwells in the human breast.

Willmott, the English essayist, says poetry is the natural religion of literature.

Ignorance is the mother of suspicion.

Tears are the tribute of humanity to its destiny.

Words of love are works of love.

God's mills grind slow, But they grind woe.

There is one thing diviner than duty, namely, the bond of obligation transmuted into liberty.