What sort of space is that which separates a man from his fellows and makes him solitary?

I wished only to be set down in Canada, and take one honest walk there as I might in Concord woods of an afternoon.

Fame itself is but an epitaph; as late, as false, as true.

The first pleasant days of spring come out like a squirrel and go in again.

Some are reputed sick and some are not. It often happens that the sicker man is the nurse to the sounder.

I think we may safely trust a good deal more than we do.

We never conceive the greatness of our fates.