None love to speak so much, when the mood of speaking comes, as they who are naturally taciturn.

He is the happiest man who is engaged in a business which tasks the most faculties of his mind.

A library is but the soul's burying ground. It is a land of shadows.

Nature holds an immense uncollected debt over every man's head.

The tree is but a huge boquet.

A gamester, as such, is the cool, calculating, essential spirit of concentrated, avaricious selfishness.

You can imagine thistle-down so light that when you run after it your running motion would drive it away from you, and that the more you tried to catch it the faster it would fly from your grasp. And it should be with every man, that, when he is chased by troubles, they, chasing, shall raise him higher and higher.