He who binds his soul to knowledge, steals the key of heaven.

Gratitude is not only the memory but the homage of the heart rendered to God for his goodness.

The night is made for tenderness, – so still that the low whisper, scarcely audible, is heard like music, – and so deeply pure that the fond thought is chastened as it springs and on the lip made holy.

We may believe that we shall know each other’s forms hereafter; and in the bright fields of the better land call the lost dead to us.

Ah me! the world is full of meetings such as this, – a thrill, a voiceless challenge and reply, and sudden partings after!

Wisdom, sits alone, topmost in heaven: she is its light, its God; and in the heart of man she sits as high, though groveling minds forget her oftentimes, seeing but this world’s idols.

The expressive word “quiet” defines the dress, manners, bow, and even physiognomy of every true denizen of St. James and Bond street.

Nature’s noblemen are everywhere, – in town and out of town, gloved and rough-handed, rich and poor. Prejudice against a lord, because he is a lord, is losing the chance of finding a good fellow, as much as prejudice against a ploughman because he is a ploughman.

Of dead kingdoms I recall the soul, sitting amid their ruins.

A lamp is lit in woman’s eye; that souls, else lost on earth, remember angels by.