Rare is the person who can weigh the faults of others without putting his thumb on the scales.
Oh too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear
Poetry is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
Always laugh when you can. It is cheap medicine.
For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause for breath, And love itself have rest.
How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm I thank thee, night for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause for breath,
And love itself have rest.
How sweet and soothing is this hour of calm! I thank thee, night! for thou has chased away these horrid bodements which, amidst the throng, I could not dissipate; and with the blessing of thy benign and quiet influence now will I to my couch, although to rest is almost wronging such a night as this.
Those who will not reason are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.
And dreams in their development have breath,
And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy;
They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,
They take a weight from off our waking toils,
They do divide our being.