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

I fear that he who walks over these fields a century hence will not know the pleasure of knocking off wild apples. Ah, poor man, there are many pleasures which he will not know!

October is the month for painted leaves. Their rich glow now flashes round the world. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky; November the later twilight.

In 1694 a law was passed "that every settler who deserted a town for fear of the Indians should forfeit all his rights therein." But now, at any rate, as I have frequently observed, a man may desert the fertile frontier territories of truth and justice, which are the State's best lands, for fear of far more insignificant foes, without forfeiting any of his civil rights therein. Nay, townships are granted to deserters, and the General Court, as I am sometimes inclined to regard it, is but a deserters' camp itself.

There is a difference between eating and drinking for strength and from mere gluttony.

All endeavour calls for the ability to tramp the last mile, shape the last plan, endure the last hours toil.

Our thoughts are epochs in our lives; all else is but as a journal of the winds that blow while we are here.