The highest genius never flowers in satire, but culminates in sympathy with that which is best in human nature, and appeals to it.

Physically, man is but an atom in space, and a pulsation in time. Spiritually, the entire outward universe receives significance from him, and the scope of his existence stretches beyond the stars.

Life is a crucible. We are thrown into it and tried.

Impatience never commanded success.

Ostentation is the signal flag of hypocrisy.

The city reveals the moral ends of being, and sets the awful problem of life. The country soothes us, refreshes us, lifts us up with religious suggestion.

Is there anything so wretched as to look at a man of fine abilities doing nothing?