Happy the life, that in a peaceful stream, Obscure, unnoticed through the vale has flow'd; The heart that ne'er was charm'd by fortune's gleam Is ever sweet contentment's blest abode.

Green sods are all their monument; and yet it tells A nobler history than pillared piles, Or the eternal pyramids.

Roses bloom, and then they wither; Cheeks are bright, then fade and die; Shapes of light are wafted hither, Then, like visions, hurry by.

The world is full of poetry. The air is living with its spirit; and the waves dance to the music of its melodies, and sparkle in its brightness.

Thought can wing its way Swifter than lightning-flashes or the beam That hastens on the pinions of the morn.

The thundering voice that wrings, in one dark, damning moment, crimes of years!

I am one who finds within me a nobility that spurns the idle pratings of the great, and their mean boasts of what their fathers were, while they themselves are fools effeminate.

There is nothing but death Our affections can sever, And till life's latest breath Love shall bind us for ever.

In Eastern lands they talk in flowers, And they tell in a garland their loves and cares; Each blossom that blooms in their garden bowers, On its leaves a mystic language bears.

The recollection of one upward hour Hath more in it to tranquilize and cheer The darkness of despondency, than years Of gayety and pleasure.

There are moments of life that we never forget, which brighten and brighten as time steals away.

Don't look my appearance, my lookMy Soul has a beautiful Grave

Don’t give up on the love of your life.

I won't tell if you don't." I winked.Granny laughed.In the South, a wink speaks louder than words.

I had very, very little training in taking an exam to determine a scientist's life in France.

We often contradict an opinion for no other reason than that we do not like the tone in which it is expressed.

If anyone else asked that question, O He Who Is Terrible and Great, I would have said they were an ignorant fool; in you it is a sign of the disarming simplicity which is the fount of all virtue.

[N]o one's ever been able to show me any difference between democracy and brute force. It's just a majority ganging up on a minority with the minority giving in to avoid getting massacred.

No memory is ever alone; it's at the end of a trail of memories, a dozen trails that each have their own associations.

I used to collect hockey cards. It was like Vegas at my school. You'd go to school with your box of cards, and at recess and lunchtime there were all these games we'd play.

At 46 one must be a miser; only have time for essentials.