I hear the tread of pioneers Of nations yet to be, The first low wash of waves where soon Shall roll a human sea.

For all sad words of tongue and pen, The saddest are these, 'It might have been'.

A little smile, a word of cheer, A bit of love from someone near, A little gift from one held dear, Best wishes for the coming year. These make a merry christmas!

Through this broad street, restless ever, ebbs and flows a human tide, wave on wave a living river; wealth and fashion side by side; Toiler, idler, slave and master, in the same quick current glide.

Swan flocks of lilies shoreward lying, In sweetness, not in music, dying.

Along the river's summer walk, The withered tufts of asters nod; And trembles on its arid stalk the hoar plum of the golden-rod.

Alas for him who never sees The stars shine through his cypress-trees Who, hopeless, lays his dead away, Nor looks to see the breaking day Across the mournful marbles play!

All the windows of my heart I open to the day.

Behind the cloud the starlight lurks, Through showers the sunbeams fall; For God, who loveth all his works, Has left his Hope with all.

If thou of fortune be bereft, and in thy store there be but left two loaves, sell one, and with the dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.

Green calm below, blue quietness above.

He must have been delightful, " she said, "when he was alive!

The wisest has nothing, knows nothing, but loves everything.

In our postmodern culture which is TV dominated, image sensitive, and morally vacuous, personality is everything and character is increasingly irrelevant.

Honor always comes at a price, else it would be worthless.

In myself I am nothing. It all comes from God and the Virgin Mary.

Fear less, hope more. Eat less, chew more. Talk less, say more. Hate less, love more.

You could give me the past,“ he said a little sadly. “But Alec is my future.

If you're looking for self-help, why would you read a book written by somebody else?

I'm sorry my existence is not very noble or sublime.

It is with men as with other things. The mullein needs only a year, but the oak a century, and the greatest men are those who have continued to grow as long as they have lived.