Ere yet we yearn for what is out of our reach, we are still in the cradle. When wearied out with our yearnings, desire again falls asleep; we are on the death-bed.

He whom God hath gifted with a love of retirement possesses, as it were, an extra sense.

A sense of contentment makes us kindly and benevolent to others; we are not chafed and galled by cares which are tyrannical because original. We are fulfilling our proper destiny, and those around us feel the sunshine of our own hearts.

Some have the temperament and tastes of genius, without its creative power. They feel acutely, but express tamely.

The prudent person may direct a state, but it is the enthusiast who regenerates or ruins it

Alas! innocence is but a poor substitute for experience.

How little praise warms out of a man the good that is in him, as the sneer of contempt which he feels is unjust chill the ardor to excel.