“If we could read the secret history of our enemies we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.”

For age is opportunity no less Than youth itself, though in another dress, And as the evening twilight fades away The sky is filled with stars, invisible by day.

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.

The mind of the scholar, if he would leave it large and liberal, should come in contact with other minds.

All things come round to him who will but wait.

For his heart was in his work, and the heart giveth grace unto every art.

Most people would succeed in small things if they were not troubled with great ambitions.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad.

I have an affection for a great city. I feel safe in the neighborhood of man, and enjoy the sweet security of the streets.

Talk not of wasted affection – affection never was wasted.

The counterfeit and counterpart of Nature is reproduced in art.

It is foolish to pretend that one is fully recovered from a disappointed passion. Such wounds always leave a scar.

The greatest firmness is the greatest mercy.

That which the fountain sends forth returns again to the fountain.

There is nothing holier in this life of ours than the first consciousness of love, the first fluttering of its silken wings.

Whoever benefits his enemy with straightforward intention that man’s enemies will soon fold their hands in devotion.

Spilt on the ground like water, can never be gathered together.