That grand old poem called Winter

The indescribable innocence of and beneficence of Nature,-of sun and wind and rain, of summer and winter,-such health, such cheer, they afford forever!

For my part, I would rather look toward Rutland than Jerusalem. Rutland,--modern town,--land of ruts,--trivial and worn,--not toosacred,--with no holy sepulchre, but profane green fields and dusty roads, and opportunity to live as holy a life as you can, where the sacredness, if there is any, is all in yourself and not in the place.

The best poets, after all, exhibit only a tame and civil side of nature. They have not seen the west side of any mountain.

What are the libraries of science but files of newspapers?

Not only must we be good, but we must also be good for something.

It is not desirable to cultivate a respect for the law, so much as for the right.