Within the memory of many of my townsmen the road near which my house stands resounded with the laugh and gossip of inhabitants, and the woods which border it were notched and dotted here and there with their little gardens and dwellings, though it was then much more shut in by the forest than now.

What are men celebrating? They are all on a committee of arrangements, and hourly expect a speech from somebody. God is only the president of the day, and Webster is his orator.

It is the stars as not yet known to science that I would know, the stars which the lonely traveler knows.

Good poetry seems so simple and natural a thing that when we meet it we wonder that all men are not always poets. Poetry is nothing but healthy speech.

They will wait, well disposed, for others to remedy evil, that they may no longer have have it to regret.

Where the most beautiful wild flowers grow, there mans spirit is fed and poets grow.

In my afternoon walk I would fain forget all my morning occupations and my obligations to society.