Those whom we can love, we can hate; to others we are indifferent.

It is the marriage of the soul with nature that makes the intellect fruitful, and gives birth to imagination

After all, I believe it is the style of thought entirely, and the style of expression, which makes the difference in books.

Time is but the stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it; but while I drink I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slides away, but eternity remains.

My days were not days of the week, bearing the stamp of any heathen deity, nor were they minced into hours and fretted by the ticking of a clock; for I lived like the Puri Indians, of whom it is said that "for yesterday, today, and tomorrow they have only one word, and they express the variety of meaning by pointing backward for yesterday forward for tomorrow, and overhead for the passing day." This was sheer idleness to my fellow-townsmen, no doubt; but if the birds and flowers had tried me by their standard, I should not have been found wanting.

I wished only to be set down in Canada, and take one honest walk there as I might in Concord woods of an afternoon.

The botanist should make interest with the bees if he would know when the flowers open and when they close.