Self-assurance is contemptible and fatal unless it is self-knowledge.

A sanctity hangs about the sources of our being, whether physical, social, or imaginary.

Nature drives with a loose rein and vitality of any sort can blunder through many a predicament in which reason would despair.

A simple life is its own reward.

Nature is like a beautiful woman that may be as delightfully and as truly known at a certain distance as upon a closer view; as to knowing her through and through; that is nonsense in both cases, and might not reward our pains.

Nothing can be lower or more wholly instrumental than the substance and cause of all things.

The Fates, like an absent-minded printer, seldom allow a single line to stand perfect and unmarred.