As naturally as the oak bears an acorn and the vine a gourd, man bears a poem, either spoken or done.

I have now a library of nearly nine hundred volumes, over seven hundred of which I wrote myself.

Nature is doing her best each moment to make us well. She exists for no other end. Do not resist. With the least inclination to be well, we should not be sick.

Oh to reach the point of death and realize one has not lived at all.

Our science, so called, is always more barren and mixed with error than our sympathies.

I took a walk in the woods and came out taller than the trees.

I love a life whose plot is simple.