Nor is a day lived if the dawn is left out of it, with the prospects it opens. Who speaks charmingly of nature or of mankind, like him who comes bibulous of sunrise and the fountains of waters?

Action and blood now get the game. Disdain treads on the peaceful name.

None can teach admirably if not loving his task.

Anger is the resentment of the animal, and gentle blood alone makes the gentleman.

Travel makes all men countrymen, makes people noblemen and kings, every man tasting of liberty and dominion.

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

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.