I pray that the life of this spring and summer may ever lie fair in my memory.

The church is a sort of hospital for men's souls and as full of quackery as the hospital for their bodies.

Whose are the truly labored sentences? From the weak and flimsy periods of the politician and literary man, we are glad to turn even to the description of work, the simple record of the month's labor in the farmer's almanac, to restore our tone and spirits.

Nature abhors a vacuum, and if I can only walk with sufficient carelessness I am sure to be filled.

Anyone in a free society where the laws are unjust has an obligation to break the law.

Faith, indeed, is all the reform that is needed; it is itself a reform.

Our panaceas cure but few ails, our general hospitals are private and exclusive. We must set up another Hygeia than is now worshiped. Do not the quacks even direct small doses for children, larger for adults, and larger still for oxen and horses? Let us remember that we are to prescribe for the globe itself.