Love is in all things a most wonderful teacher . . .
Constancy in love is a good thing; but it means nothing, and is nothing, without constancy in every kind of effort.
Life is made of ever so many partings welded together.
Life is given to us on the definite understanding that we boldly defend it to the last.
My life is one demd horrid grind.
Oh, a dainty plant is the ivy green, That creepeth o’er ruins old Of right choice food are his meals, I ween, In his cell so lone and cold. Creeping where no life is seen, A rare old plant is the ivy green.
In the moonlight which is always sad, as the light of the sun itself is–as the light called human life is–at its coming and its going.
Of little worth as life is when we misuse it, it is worth that effort. It would cost nothing to lay down if it were not.
Life is made of so many partings welded together
The boy was lying, fast asleep, on a rude bed upon the floor; so pale with anxiety, and sadness, and the closeness of his prison, that he looked like death; not death as it shews in shroud and coffin, but in the guise it wears when life has just departed; when a young and gentle spirit has, but an instant, fled to Heaven: and the gross air of the world has not had time to breathe upon the changing dust it hallowed.
Death may beget life, but oppression can beget nothing other than itself.
It was a harder day’s journey than yesterday’s, for there were long and weary hills to climb and in journeys, as in life, it is a great deal easier to go down hill than up. However, they kept on, with unabated perseverance, and the hill has not yet lifted its face to heaven that perseverance will not gain the summit of at last.
I have known a vast quantity of nonsense talked about bad men not looking you in the face. Don’t trust that conventional idea. Dishonesty will stare honesty out of countenance any day in the week, if there is anything to be got by it.