“No bird has ever uttered note That was not in some first bird's throat; Since Ed…” — Thomas Bailey Aldrich

Every man has within himself a gold mine whose riches are limited only by his own industry.

I knew I was born at the North but hoped nobody would find it out. I looked upon the misfortune as something so shrouded by time and distance that maybe nobody remembered it.

When a man cuts himself absolutely adrift from custom, what an astonishingly light spar floats him! How few his wants are, after all!

Rome is one enormous mausoleum. There, the Past lies visibly stretched upon his bier. There is no today or tomorrow in Rome; it is perpetual yesterday.