There is a sacredness in tears....They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.
There is in every true woman's heart a spark of heavenly fire, which lies dormant in the broad daylight of prosperity; but which kindles up, and beams and blazes in the dark hour of adversity.
Great minds have purpose, others have wishes. Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortunes; but great minds rise above them.
I profess not to know how women's hearts are wooed and won. To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration.
Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.
Christmas is the season for kindling the fire of hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.
Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow rays of the departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.
There is a certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse; as I have found in traveling in a stage coach, that it is often a comfort to shift one's position and be bruised in a new place.
Others may write from the head, but he writes from the heart, and the heart will always understand him.
A kind heart is a fountain of gladness, making everything in its vicinity freshen into smiles.
A tart temper never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edged tool that grows keener with constant use.
Great minds have purposes, others have wishes.
And if unhappy in her love, her heart is like some fortress that has been captured, and sacked, and abandoned, and left desolate...
To look upon its grass grown yard, where the sunbeams seem to sleep so quietly, one would think that there at least the dead might rest in peace.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness but of power. They are messengers of overwhelming grief and of unspeakable love.
There are certain half-dreaming moods of mind in which we naturally steal away from noise and glare, and seek some quiet haunt where we may indulge our reveries and build our air castles undisturbed.
After a man passes 60 , his mischief is mainly in his head
The tie which links mother and child is of such pure and immaculate strength as to be never violated.
It is almost startling to hear this warning of departed time sounding among the tombs, and telling the lapse of the hour, which, like a billow, has rolled us onward towards the grave.
There is a sacredness in tears
Balt Van Tassel was an easy indulgent soul; he loved his daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man and an excellent father, let her have her way in everything.
There is a serene and settled majesty to woodland scenery that enters into the soul and delights and elevates it, and fills it with noble inclinations.
Poetry had breathed over and sanctified the land.
The only happy author in this world is he who is below the care of reputation.
...ducks and geese are foolish things, and must be looked after, but girls can take care of themselves.
For my part, I love to give myself up to the illusion of poetry. A hero of fiction that never existed is just as valuable to me as a hero of history that existed a thousand years ago.
A father may turn his back on his child, brothers and sisters may become inveterate enemies, husbands may desert their wives, wives their husbands. But a mother's love endures through all.
Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune; but great minds rise above them.
They are given to all kinds of marvellous beliefs; are subject to trances and visions; and frequently see strange sights, and hear music and voices in the air.
There is nothing like the silence and loneliness of night to bring dark shadows over the brightest mind.
He is indeed the true enchanter, whose spell operates, not upon the senses, but upon the imagination and the heart.
The land of literature is a fairy land to those who view it at a distance, but, like all other landscapes, the charm fades on a nearer approach, and the thorns and briars become visible.
But what courage can withstand the ever-during and all-besetting terrors of a woman's tongue?
It has also been the peculiar lot of our country to be visited by the worst kind of English travellers.
Rising genius always shoots out its rays from among the clouds, but these will gradually roll away and disappear as it ascends to its steady luster.
There is an eloquence in true enthusiasm that is not to be doubted.
It's a dog eat dog world. But only if the second dog is more stupid than the first.
There is nothing in this world so hard to get at as truth, and there is nothing in this world but truth that I care for.
I have often wondered at the extreme fecundity of the press, and how it comes to pass that so many heads on which nature seemed to have inflicted the curse of barrenness should teem with voluminous productions.
A sharp tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener with constant use.
How easy is it for one benevolent being to diffuse pleasure around him, and how truly is a kind heart a fountain of gladness, making everything in its vicinity to freshen into smiles.
It was the policy of the good old gentleman to make his children feel that home was the happiest place in the world; and I value this delicious home-feeling as one of the choicest gifts a parent can bestow.
I profess not to know how women’s hearts are wooed and won. To me they have always been matters of riddle and admiration.
Connecticut, a State which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as for the forest,
Thus it happens that your true dull minds are generally preferred for public employ, and especially promoted to city honors; your keen intellects, like razors, being considered too sharp for common service. I
