Sweet is the memory of distant friends! Like the mellow ray of a departing sun, it falls tenderly, yet sadly, on the heart.

Love is never lost. If not reciprocated it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief...and unspeakable love.

A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden, fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends who rejoice with us in our sunshine desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.

He loved his daughter better even than his pipe, and, like a reasonable man and an excellent father, let her have her way in everything.

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark ofweakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than tenthousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelminggrief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.

The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal--every other affliction to forget: but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open--this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.

There is a certain relief in change, even though it be from bad to worse...it is often a comfort to shift one's position and be bruised in a new place.

It is, indeed, the season of regenerated feeling, the season for kindling, not merely the fire of hospitality in the hall, but the genial flame of charity in the heart.

A mother is the truest friend we have.