"The lovely daisy, so justly celebrated by European poets, is not a native of our soil; we know it we..." — Dorothea Dix

I shall be well enough when I get to Kentucky or Alabama. The tonic I need is the tonic of opposition. That always sets me on my feet.

Of my English friends, I should find language too poor to speak the just praise and the excellence which shines in their characters and lives.

All my habits through life have been singularly removed from any condition of reliance on others, and the feeling - right or wrong - that aloneness is my proper position has prevailed since my early childhood, no doubt nourished and strengthened by many and quick-following bereavements.

I am contracting continually a debt of gratitude which time will never see canceled. There is a treasury from which it will be repaid, but I do not dispense its stores.