The pleased sea on a white-breasted shore-- A shore that wears on her alluring brows Rare shells, far brought, the love-gifts of the sea, That blushed a tell-tale.

Love is but the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition.

The man who in this world can keep the whiteness of his soul is not likely to lose it in any other.

Trees are your best antiques

Christmas is the day that holds all time together.

Stirling, like a huge brooch, clasps Highlands and Lowlands together.

Vanity in its idler moments is benevolent, is as willing to give pleasure as to take it, and accepts as sufficient reward for its services a kind word or an approving smile.

A man gazing at the stars is proverbially at the mercy of the puddles in the road.

In the entire circle of the year there are no days so delightful as those of a fine October.

If you wish to preserve your secret, wrap it up in frankness.

If you do your fair day's work, you are certain to get your fair day's wage - in praise or pudding, whichever happens to suit your taste.

Positive thoughts and words will create a force inside you that communicates with the outside world and brings about profusion in all things around you.

You have got a good side? I have. I just do not use it too often. My bad side is so much more fun.

May your marriage bring you all the exquisite excitements a marriage should bring, and may life grant you also patience, tolerance, and understanding.

I've always liked to think I could do anything I wished as well as - if not better than - a man. But I wasn't very good at rally driving.

We all ended up somewhere with our various uncertain lives flapping about us in tatters and our pockets full of foreign coins.

Awareness is always the first step.

We don't have to be victims of our past, that we can let go of our bitterness, and that all of us can achieve greatness.

One of the first items of Congressional business in 2006 will be an effort to renew the USA Patriot Act.

If America ever passes out as a great nation, we ought to put on our tombstone: America died from a delusion she had Moral Leadership.

Protest poetry -- could there be consensus poetry?