It did not,--but he sat as if watching it.
-- Language is a solemn thing,--I said .-- It grows out of life,--out of its agonies and ecstasies, its wants and its weariness.

Every language is a temple, in which the soul of those who speak it is enshrined.

Because time softens its outlines and rounds the sharp angles of its cornices, shall a fellow take a pickaxe to help time?
Let me tell you what comes of meddling with things that can take care of themselves .-- A friend of mine had a watch given him, when he was a boy,--a "bull's eye," with a loose silver case that came off like an oyster-shell from its contents; you know them,--the cases that you hang on your thumb, while the core, or the real watch, lies in your hand as naked as a peeled apple.

Well, he began with taking off the case, and so on from one liberty to another, until he got it fairly open, and there were the works, as good as if they were alive,--crown-wheel, balance-wheel, and all the rest.

All right except one thing,--there was a confounded little hair had got tangled round the balance-wheel.