Nathaniel Parker Willis

The highest triumph of art, is the truest presentation of nature.

It is the month of June, The month of leaves and roses, When pleasant sights salute the eyes and pleasant scents the noses.

Gratitude is not only the memory but the homage of the heart rendered to God for his goodness.

At present there is no distinction among the upper ten thousand of the city.

If there is anything that keeps the mind open to angel visits, and repels the ministry of ill, it is human love.

The lily and the rose in her fair face striving for precedence.

He who binds his soul to knowledge, steals the key of heaven.

Some noble spirits mistake despair for content.

One gets sensitive about losing mornings after getting a little used to them with living in a country. Each one of these endlessly varied daybreaks is an opera but once performed.

The innocence that feels no risk and is taught no caution, is more vulnerable than guilt, and oftener assailed.

Press on! for in the grave there is no work and no device. Press on! while yet you may.

It is the month of June, The month of leaves and roses, When pleasant sights salute the eyes And pleasant scents the noses.