What a strange scene if the surge of conversation could suddenly ebb like the tide, and show us the real state of people's minds.

Is death the last sleep? No, it is the last final awakening.

O what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive!

All men who have turned out worth anything have had the chief hand in their own education.

We cannot exist without mutual help. All therefore that need aid have a right to ask it from their fellow men; and no one who has the power of granting can refuse it without guilt.

When a man has not a good reason for doing a thing, he has one good reason for letting it alone.

Breathes there the man, with soul so dead, Who never to himself hath said, This is my own, my native land!

Soldier, rest! thy warfare o'er, Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking; Dream of battled fields no more, Days of danger, nights of waking.

I cannot tell how the truth may be; I say the tale as 'twas said to me.

O, woman! In our hours of ease, Uncertain, coy, and hard to please, And variable as the shade By the light quivering aspen made; When pain and anguish wring the brow, A ministering angel thou!