The scornful nostril and the high head gather not the odors that lie on the track of truth.

Our thoughts are often worse than we are.

Much of our waking experience is but a dream in the daylight.

When a workman knows the use of his tools, he can make a door as well as a window.

How should all the apparatus of heaven and earth make poetry for a mind that had no movements of awe and tenderness, no sense of fellowship which thrills from the near to the distant, and back again from the distant to the near?

'Character," says Novalis, in one of his questionable aphorisms - character is destiny'.

But with regard to critical occasions, it often happens that all moments seem comfortably remote until the last.