Washington Irving
Washington IrvingChristmas is a season for kindling the fire for hospitality in the hall, the genial flame of charity in the heart.
History is but a kind of Newgate calendar, a register of the crimes and miseries that man has inflicted on his fellow-man.
Love is never lost. If not reciprocated, it will flow back and soften and purify the heart.
A Monument is also, in the end, a ruin; just as a man's name perishes from record and recollection.
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 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.
Society is like a lawn, where every roughness is smoothed, every bramble eradicated, and where the eye is delighted by the smiling verdure of a velvet surface.
