Of all the music that reached farthest into heaven, it is the beating of a loving heart.

It's not the work which kills people, it's the worry. It's not the revolution that destroys machinery it's the friction.

Thorough selfishness destroys or paralyzes enjoyment. A heart made selfish by the contest for wealth is like a citadel stormed in war, utterly shattered.

Sophistry is the fallacy of argument.

The art of being happy lies in the power of extracting happiness from common things.

When a nation's young men are conservative, its funeral bell is already rung.

A love of flowers would beget early rising, industry, habits of close observation, and of reading. It would incline the mind to notice natural phenomena, and to reason upon them. It would occupy the mind with pure thoughts, and inspire a sweet and gentle enthusiasm; maintain simplicity of taste; and ... unfold in the heart an enlarged, unstraightened, ardent piety.