May books and nature be their early joy!

Neither evil tongues, rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men, nor greetings where no kindness is, nor all the dreary intercourse of daily life, shall ever prevail against us.

The feather, whence the pen Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men, Dropped from an angel's wing.

Fear is a cloak which old men huddle about their love, as if to keep it warm.

Society became my glittering bride, And airy hopes my children.

The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants; and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.

Alas! how little can a moment show Of an eye where feeling plays In ten thousand dewy rays: A face o'er which a thousand shadows go!