If time is precious, no book that will not improve by repeated readings deserves to be read at all.

The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide, on which we and all the Universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not: this is forever very literally a miracle; a thing to strike us dumb—for we have no word to speak about it.

One life; a little gleam of Time between two Eternities; no second chance to us for evermore!

The past is all holy to us; the dead are all holy; even they that were wicked when alive.

That great mystery of TIME, were there no other; the illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean tide, on which we and all the Universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not: this is forever very literally a miracle; a thing to strike us dumb,-for we have no word to speak about it.

The outer passes away; the innermost is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

Youth is to all the glad season of life; but often only by what it hopes, not by what it attains, or what it escapes.

Eternity looks grander and kinder if time grow meaner and more hostile.

He who has no vision of eternity has no hold on time.