I do not believe anyone can be perfectly well, who has a brain and a heart
There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.
Lives of great men all remind usWe can make our lives sublime,And, departing, leave behind usFootprints on the sands of time;Footprints, that perhaps another,Sailing o’er life’s solemn main,A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,Seeing, shall take heart...
Every arrow that flies feels the pull of the earth.
Ah, Nothing is too late, till the tired heart shall cease to palpitate.
Straight between them ran the pathway,Never grew the grass upon it
A torn jacket is soon mended, but hard words bruise the heart of a child.
The love of learning, the sequestered nooks,And all the sweet serenity of books
He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.