Every child begins the world again.
If there is nothing new on the earth, still the traveler always has a resource in the skies. They are constantly turning a new page to view. The wind sets the types on this blue ground, and the inquiring may always read a new truth there.
Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.
As long as there is satire, the poet is, as it were, particeps criminis.
Every man looks at his wood-pile with a kind of affection.
All good things are cheap: all bad are very dear.