The flowers of the apple are perhaps the most beautiful of any tree's, so copious and so delicious to both sight and scent.

Maturity is when all of your mirrors turn into windows.

If we see nature as pausing, immediately all mortifies and decays; but seen as progressing, she is beautiful.

There is one thought for the field, another for the house. I would have my thoughts, like wild apples, to be food for walkers, and will not warrant them to be palatable if tasted in the house.

Old deeds for old people, and new deeds for new.

We are armed with language adequate to describe each leaf of the filed, but not to describe human character.

Truth is always paradoxical.