It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it.

Charity, like poetry, should be cultivated, if only for its being graceful.

To treat of human actions is to deal wholly with second causes.

An intense copper calm, like a universal yellow lotus, was more and more unfolding its noiseless measureless leaves upon the sea.

There's something ever egotistical in mountain-tops and towers, and all other grand and lofty things.

Woe to him who seeks to please rather than appall.

Wag the world how it will, Leaves must be green in Spring.