The intercourse of the sexes, I have dreamed, is incredibly beautiful, too fair to be remembered. I have had thoughts about it, but they are among the most fleeting and irrecoverable in my experience.

I know of no redeeming qualities in myself but a sincere love for some things, and when I am reproved I fall back on to this ground.

Fresh curls spring from the baldest brow. There is nothing inorganic.

It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?

The order of things should be reversed; the seventh day should be the day of toil...and the other six his Sabbath of the affections and the soul, in which to range this widerspread garden, and drink in the soft influences and sublime revelations of Nature.

We seem to think that the earth must go through the ordeal of sheep-pasturage before it is habitable by man.

Do not entertain doubts if they are not agreeable to you.