Our taste is too delicate and particular. It says nay to the poet's work, but never yea to his hope.
In what concerns you much, do not think that you have companions: know that you are alone in the world.
When my legs begin to move, the thoughts begin to flow.
It is not all books that are as dull as their readers.
Trees indeed have hearts.
There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of Nature and has his senses still.