Day, like a weary pilgrim, had reached the western gate of heaven, and Evening stooped down to unloose the latchets of his sandal shoon.
Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe.
Three silences there are: the first of speech, the second of desire, the third of thought.
Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and silence.
Sail on ship of state, sail on, I union, strong and great! Humanity with all its fears, with all its hopes of future years, is hanging on thy fate!
The twilight that surrounds the border-land of old romance.
Let him not boast who puts his armor on as he who puts it off, the battle done.
A life that is worth writing at all is worth writing minutely.
The world loves a spice of wickedness.
How like they are to human things!
These stars of earth, these golden flowers.
And when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.
No literature is complete until the language it was written in is dead.
Everyone says that forgiveness is a lovely idea until he has something to forgive.
Would you learn the secret of the sea? Only those who brave its dangers, comprehend its mystery!
He spoke well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.
Rule by patience, Laughing Water!
There is no flock, however watched and tended, but one dead lamb is there! There is no fireside howsoe’er defended, but has one vacant chair.
The young may die, but the old must!
My designs and labors and aspirations are my only friends.