Talk of mysteries! — Think of our life in nature, — daily to be shown matter, to come in contact with it, — rocks, trees, wind on our cheeks! The solid earth! The actual world! The common sense! Contact! Contact! Who are we? Where are we?

There is one consolation in being sick; and that is the possibility that you may recover to a better state than you were ever in before.

Nature is fair in proportion as the youth is pure. The heavens and the earth are one flower ; the earth is the calyx, the heavens the corolla.

We are double-edged blades, and every time we whet our virtue the return stroke strops our vice.

Let every one mind his own business, and endeavor to be what he was made.

It will always be found that one flourishing institution exists and battens on another mouldering one. The Present itself is parasitic to this extent.

We must have infinite faith in each other.