You may tell by looking at any twig of the forest, ay, at your very wood-pile, whether its winter is past or not.

You will pardon some obscurities, for there are more secrets in my trade than in most men's, and yet not voluntarily kept, but inseparable from its very nature. I would gladly tell all that I know about it, and never paint "No Admittance" on my gate.

I am resolved that I will not through humility become the devil's attorney. I will endeavor to speak a good word for the truth.

We have need to be as sturdy pioneers still as Miles Standish, or Church, or Lovewell. We are to follow on another trail, it is true, but one as convenient for ambushes. What if the Indians are exterminated, are not savages as grim prowling about the clearings today?

My greatest skill has been to want but little.

In the long run, men hit only what they aim at. Therefore, they had better aim at something high.

A true account of the actual is the rarest poetry, for common sense always takes a hasty and superficial view.