We Talk Little When We Do Not

Vice, Like Disease, Floats In The Atmosphere.

Nothing Precludes Sympathy So Much As A Perfect Indifference To It

Words Are The Only Things That Last For Ever.

Habit In Most Cases Hardens And Encrusts By Taking Away The Keener Edge Of Our Sensations: But Does It Not In Others Quicken And Refine, By Giving A Mechanical Facility And By Engrafting An Acquired Sense?

Poetry Is The Universal Language Which The Heart Holds With Nature And Itself. He Who Has A Contempt For Poetry, Cannot Have Much Respect For Himself, Or For Anything Else.