The true teacher defends his pupils against his own personal influence. He inspires self-trust. He guides their eyes from himself to the spirit that quickens him. He will have no disciples.

Debate is angular, conversation circular and radiant of the underlying unity.

Nature is the armory of genius. Cities serve it poorly, books and colleges at second hand; the eye craves the spectacle of the horizon; of mountain, ocean, river and plain, the clouds and stars; actual contact with the elements, sympathy with the seasons as they rise and roll.

A sip is the most than mortals are permitted from any goblet of delight.

We climb to heaven most often on the ruins of our cherished plans, finding our failures were successes.

While one finds company in himself and his pursuits, he cannot feel old, no matter what his years may be.

My favorite books have a personality and complexion as distinctly drawn as if the author's portrait were framed into the paragraphs and smiled upon me as I read his illustrated pages.