On this side of the grave we are exiles, on that, citizens; on this side, orphans; on that, children; on this side, captives; on that, free men.

More from Henry Ward Beecher

• It is not the going out of port, but the coming in, that determines the success of the voyage.
• Pride slays thanksgiving, but an humble mind is the soil out of which thanks naturally grow. A proud man is seldom a grateful man, for he never thinks he gets as much as he deserves.
• I have little desire to spend my few remaining years grieving for the loss of old friends. Or their sons.
• And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
• And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls, Shall long keep his memory green in our souls. Oh breathe not his Name.
• Because I could not stop for Death--