A loving heart is the truest wisdom.

Blessed is the man, who having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact.

The river taught us how to listen with a silent heart, with a waiting open soul.

Lie still, lie still, my breaking heart; My silent heart, lie still and break: Life, and the world, and mine own self, are changed For a dream’s sake.

What a dead thing is a clock, with its ponderous embowelments of lead and brass, its pert or solemn dullness of communication, compared with the simple altar-like structure and silent heart-language of the old sundials! It stood as the garden god of Christian gardens. Why is it almost everywhere vanished? If its business-use be superseded by more elaborate inventions, its moral uses, its beauty, might have pleaded for its continuance.

If you don’t say anything, you won’t be called on to repeat it.