Nature confounds her summer distinctions at this season. The heavens seem to be nearer the earth. The elements are less reserved and distinct. Water turns to ice, rain to snow. The day is but a Scandinavian night. The winter is an arctic summer.

A man will not need to study history to find out what is best for his own culture.

There can be no very black melancholy to him who lives in the midst of Nature and has his senses still.

Every sunset I witness inspires me with the desire to go to West as distant and as fair as that which the sun goes down. Eastward I go only by force; but westward I go free.

Commonly men will only be brave as their fathers were brave, or timid.

Invariably our best nights were those when it rained.

The front aspect of great thoughts can only be enjoyed by those who stand on the side whence they arrive.