I come to my solitary woodland walk as the homesick go home.

All the moral laws are readily translated into natural philosophy, for often we have only to restore the primitive meaning of thewords by which they are expressed, or to attend to their literal instead of their metaphorical sense. They are already supernatural philosophy.

The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears to hear it.

Sincerity is a great but rare virtue, and we pardon to it much complaining, and the betrayal of many weaknesses.

A man of fine perceptions is more truly feminine than a merely sentimental woman.

All sensuality is one, though it takes many forms; all purity is one. It is the same whether a man eat, or drink, or cohabit, or sleep sensually. They are but one appetite, and we only need to see a person do any one of these things to know how great a sensualist he is. The impure can neither stand nor sit with purity.

I live in the angle of a leaden wall, into whose composition was poured a little alloy of bell-metal. Often, in the repose of my mid-day, there reaches my ears a confused tintinnabulum from without. It is the noise of my contemporaries.