The best portion of a good man's life - his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting.

The Child is father of the Man.

Death is the quiet haven of us all.

Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore Of nicely-calculated less or more.

O joy! that in our embers Is something that doth live.

And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man.

Though inland far we be, Our souls have sight of that immortal sea Which brought us hither.

The still, sad music of humanity.

Small service is true service while it lasts; Of humblest friends, bright creature! scorn not one; The daisy, by the shadow that it casts, Protects the lingering dew-drop from the sun.