Light is the symbol of truth.
Freedom is the only law which genius knows.
Children are God's Apostles, sent forth, day by day, to preach of love, and hope, and peace.
Each day the world is born anew for him who takes it rightly.
Truth, after all, wears a different face to everybody, and it would be too tedious to wait till all were agreed.
Sincerity is impossible, unless it pervade the whole being, and the pretence of it saps the very foundation of character.
The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.
The eye is the notebook of the poet.
And what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days.
No man can produce great things who is not thoroughly sincere in dealing with himself.
Fortune is the rod of the weak, and the staff of the brave.
If youth be a defect, it is one that we outgrow only too soon.
Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how.
Every person born into this world their work is born with them.
The mind can weave itself warmly in the cocoon of its own thoughts, and dwell a hermit anywhere.
In the ocean of baseness, the deeper we get, the easier the sinking.
I have always been of the mind that in a democracy manners are the only effective weapons against the bowie-knife.
What men prize most is a privilege, even if it be that of chief mourner at a funeral.
It is the privilege of genius that life never grows common place, as it does for the rest of us.
Literature, properly so called, draws its sap from the deep soil of human nature's common and everlasting sympathies, the gathered leaf-mound of countless generations, and not from any top dressing capriciously scattered over the surface.
The riches of scholarship, the benignities of literature, defy fortune and outlive calamity. They are beyond the reach of thief or moth or rust. As they cannot be inherited, so they cannot, be alienated.
He who is firmly seated in authority soon learns to think security, and not progress, the highest lesson in statecraft.
It is curious for one who studies the action and reaction of national literature on each other, to see the humor of Swift and Sterne and Fielding, after filtering through Richter, reappear in Carlyle with a tinge of Germanism that makes it novel, alien, or even displeasing, as the case may be, to the English mind.
Where one person shapes their life by precept and example, there are a thousand who have shaped it by impulse and circumstances.
An appeal to the reason of the people has never been known to fail in the long run.
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