Oh, the pleasure of eating my dinner alone!

Gluttony and surfeiting are no proper occasions for thanksgiving.

I love to lose myself in other men's minds.... Books think for me.

We love to chew the cud of a foregone vision; to collect the scattered rays of a brighter phantasm, or act over again, with firmer nerves, the sadder nocturnal tragedies.

The cheerful Sabbath bells, wherever heard, Strike pleasant on the sense, most like the voice Of one, who from the far-off hills proclaims Tidings of good to Zion.

By myself walking, To myself talking.

I am in love with the green earth.