Unquestionably we do stand by our national flag as stoutly as any people in the world; and I myself have felt the heart-throb at sight of it, as sensibly as other men.
The ideas of people in general are not raised higher than the roofs of the houses. All their interests extend over the earth’s surface in a layer of that thickness. The meeting-house steeple reaches out of their sphere.
Life figures itself to me as a festal or funereal procession.
London is like the grave in one respect – any man can make himself at home there; and whenever a man finds himself homeless elsewhere, he had better either die or go to London.
When a writer calls his work a Romance, it need hardly be observed that he wishes to claim a certain latitude, both as to its fashion and material, which he would not have felt himself entitled to assume had he professed to be writing a Novel.
The world, that grey-bearded and wrinkled profligate, decrepit, without being venerable.
Though we speak nonsense, God will pick out the meaning of it.
Death is so genuine a fact that it excludes falsehoods, or betrays its emptiness; it is a touchstone that proves the gold, and dishonors the baser metal.
There is evil in every human heart, which may remain latent, perhaps, through the whole of life; but circumstances may rouse it to activity.
If human love hath power to penetrate the veil – and hath it not? – then there are yet living here a few who have the blessedness of knowing that an angel loves them.
Death possesses a good deal, of real estate, namely, the graveyard in every town.
Thus we see, too, in the world that some persons assimilate only what is ugly and evil from the same moral circumstances which supply good and beautiful results – the fragrance of celestial flowers – to the daily life of others.
The Christian faith is a grand cathedral with divinely pictured windows.
If a man, sitting all alone, cannot dream strange things, and make them look like truth, he need never try to write romances.
What a sweet reverence is that when a young man deems his mistress a little more than mortal and almost chides himself for longing to bring her close to his heart.
It is remarkable, that persons who speculate the most boldly often conform with the most perfect quietude to the external regulations of society. The thoughts alone suffice them, without investing itself in the flesh and blood of action.
Cannot you conceive that another man may wish well to the world and struggle for its good on some other plan than precisely that which you have laid down?
Pleasant is a rainy winter’s day, within doors! The best study for such a day, or the best amusement, – call it which you will, – is a book of travels, describing scenes the most unlike that sombre one.
When an uninstructed multitude attempts to see with its eyes, it is exceedingly apt to be deceived.
She wanted – what some people want throughout life – a grief that should deeply touch her, and thus humanize and make her capable of sympathy.