The present is an eternal now.
Lukewarmness I account a sin, as great in love as in religion.
Does not the passage of Moses and the Israelites into the Holy Land yield incomparably more poetic variety than the voyages of Ulysses or Aeneas?
This only grant me, that my means may lie, too low for envy, for contempt to high.
Sleep is a god too proud to wait in palaces, and yet so humble too as not to scorn the meanest country cottages.
Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.