“Tis liberty alone that gives the flower Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume; And we are weeds without it.”

Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa around, And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn

Absence from whom we love is worse than death, and frustrates hope severer than despair.

Some people are more nice than wise.

Absence of occupation is not rest.

Absence of occupation is not rest; A mind quite vacant is a mind distressed.

What is there in the vale of lifeHalf so delightful as a wife;When friendship, love and peace combineTo stamp the marriage-bond divine?

God moves in mysterious ways His wonders to performs

The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.

…So let us welcome peaceful evening in.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust him for his grace; Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

Absence of proof is not proof of absence.

Variety’s the very spice of life, That gives it all its flavor.

When nations are to perish in their sins, ’tis in the Church the leprosy begins.

To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.

Blest be the art that can immortalize,–the art that baffles time’s tyrannic claim to quench it.

The fame which is based on wealth or beauty is a frail and fleeting thing; but virtue shines for ages with undiminished lustre.