Theology is but our ideas of truth classified and arranged.

A man without mirth is like wagon without springs, in which one is caused disagreeably to jolt by every pebble over which it turns.

There is no friendship, no love, like that of the parent for the child.

The morbid states of health, the irritableness of disposition arising from unstrung nerves, the impatience, the crossness, the fault-finding of men, who, full of morbid influences, are unhappy themselves, and throw the cloud of their troubles like a dark shadow upon others, teach us what eminent duty there is in health.

The tree is but a huge boquet.

The way to avoid evil is not by maiming our passions, but by compelling them to yield their vigor to our moral nature.

Of all formal things in the world, a clipped hedge is the most formal; and of all the informal things in the world, a forest tree is the most informal.