“O, what an untold world there is in one human heart!”

Love is very beautiful, but very, very sad.

Why don’t somebody wake up to the beauty of old women?

There are two classes of human beings in this world: one class seem made to give love, and the other to take it.

People will accept your ideas much more readily if you tell them that Benjamin Franklin said it first. Perhaps it is impossible for a person who does no good to do no harm.

So much has been said and sung of beautiful young girls, why doesn’t somebody wake up to the beauty of old women.

Witness, eternal God! Oh, witness that, from this hour, I will do what one man can to drive out this curse of slavery from my land!

There are griefs which grow with years.

I am one of the sort that lives by throwing stones at other people’s glass houses, but I never mean to put up one for them to stone.

Talk of the abuses of slavery! Humbug! The thing itself is the essence of all abuse!

It lies around us like a cloud- A world we do not see; Yet the sweet closing of an eye May bring us there to be.

The Negro is an exotic of the most gorgeous and superb countries of the world, and he has deep in his heart a passion for all that is splendid, rich and fanciful.

Scenes of blood and cruelty are shocking to our ear and heart. What man has nerve to do, man has not nerve to hear.

Self respect is impossible without liberty.

Many a humble soul will be amazed to find that the seed it sowed in weakness, in the dust of daily life, has blossomed into immortal flowers under the eye of the Lord.

Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life’s undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room.

The person who decides what shall be the food and drink of a family, and the modes of its preparation, is the one who decides, to a greater or less extent, what shall be the health of that family.

She was too much for you…Pouring her love onto you, she thought she would quench your thirst, but you drowned…She didn’t know your heart was just a shot glass and not a continent.

You made me a mom. And painted the sun and moon inside my heart.

All my trauma grown to thorns, he overlooked it all. Perhaps they caused him to bleed in ways I can’t recall.

When I look to my heart for answers your face is all I can see.

Don’t share your feelings to someone until your heart never feels them real.

Poetry has its own language which can only be understood, when you read it with your heart and feel it within your soul.

Their minds have met. Hearts, might never.

when he smiles at me, i swear my heart jumps. But when he kisses me? then, i burn.