The very thrills of genius are disorganizing. The body is never quite acclimated to its atmosphere, but how often, succumbs and goes into a decline.

Nature is an admirable schoolmistress.

It requires nothing less than a chivalric feeling to sustain a conversation with a lady.

A fact may blossom into a truth.

But men labor under a mistake. The better part of the man is soon plowed into the soil for compost.

It is remarkable that almost all speakers and writers feel it to be incumbent on them, sooner or later, to prove or acknowledge the personality of God. Some Earl of Bridgewater, thinking it better late than never, has provided for it in his will. It is a sad mistake.

There is more religion in men's science, than there is science in their religion.