Music is the fourth great material want, first food, then clothes, then shelter, then music.

In politics, merit is rewarded by the possessor being raised, like a target, to a position to be fired at.

Few minds wear out; more rust out.

God, we are told, looked upon the world after he had created it and pronounced it good; but ascetic pietists, in their wisdom, cast their eyes over it, and substantially pronounce it a dead failure, a miserable production, a poor concern.

Earth took her shining station as a star, In Heaven's dark hall, high up the crowd of worlds.

Panic is a sudden desertion of us, and a going over to the enemy of our imagination.

Alas, the transports beauty can inspire!