He who feels contempt for any living thing hath faculties that he hath never used, and thought with him is in its infancy.

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark, And shares the nature of infinity.

I should dread to disfigure the beautiful ideal of the memories of illustrious persons with incongruous features, and to sully the imaginative purity of classical works with gross and trivial recollections.

Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep! The river glideth at his own sweet will; Dear God! the very houses seem asleep; And all that mighty heart is lying still!

The childhood of today is the manhood of tomorrow

Faith is a passionate intuition.

How fast has brother followed brother, From sunshine to the sunless land!