After the first blush of sin comes its indifference.

So our human life but dies down to its root, and still puts forth its green blade to eternity.

One is wise to cultivate the tree that bears fruit in our soul.

The gentle rain which waters my beans and keeps me in the house today is not drear and melancholy, but good for me too. Though it prevents my hoeing them, it is of far more worth than my hoeing. If it should continue so long as to cause the seeds to rot in the ground and destroy the potatoes in the low lands, it would still be good for the grass on the uplands, and, being good for the grass, would be good for me, too.

I never was so rapid in my virtue but my vice kept up with me.

My greatest skill has been to want but little.

Of course it is of no use to direct our steps to the woods, if they do not carry us thither. I am alarmed when it happens that I have walked a mile into the woods bodily, without getting there in spirit.... What business have I in the woods, if I am thinking of something out of the woods?