The boy gathers materials for a temple, and then when he is thirty, concludes to build a woodshed.

The book exists for us, perchance, which will explain our miracles and reveal new ones.

Nature has left nothing to the mercy of man.

We perceive and are affected by changes too subtle to be described.

All men want, not something to do with, but something to do, or rather something to be.

In the midst of this chopping sea of civilized life, such are the clouds and storms and quicksands and thousand-and-one items to be allowed for, that a man has to live, if he would not founder and go to the bottom and not make his port at all, by dead reckoning, and he must be a great calculator indeed who succeeds. Simplify, simplify.

We must have infinite faith in each other.