The virtues of a superior man are like the wind; the virtues of a common man are like the grass; the grass, when the wind passes over it, bends.

We are ever dying to one world and being born into another.

Where there is a brave man, in the thickest of the fight, there is the post of honor.

What is once well done is done forever.

To the sick, indeed, nature is sick, but to the well, a fountain of health.

As for style of writing, if one has anything to say, it drops from him simply and directly, as a stone falls to the ground.

A simple woman down in Tyngsborough, at whose house I once stopped to get a draught of water, when I said, recognizing the bucket, that I had stopped there nine years before for the same purpose, asked if I was not a traveler, supposing that I had been traveling ever since, and had now come round again.