We love to hear some men speak, though we hear not what they say; the very air they breathe is rich and perfumed, and the sound of their voices falls on the ear like the rustling of leaves or the crackling of the fire. They stand many deep.

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

What a fool he must be who thinks that his El Dorado is anywhere but where he lives.

The keeping of bees is like the direction of sunbeams.

Ninety-nine one-hundredths of our lives we are mere hedgers and ditchers, but from time to time we meet with reminders of our destiny.

How can any man be weak who dares to be at all?

I think of no news to tell you. It is a serene summer day here, all above the snow. The hens steal their nests, and I steal theireggs still, as formerly. This is what I do with the hands. Ah, labor,--it is a divine institution, and conversation with many men and hens.