Youth is immortal; Tis the elderly only grow old!

Where lies the final harbor, whence we unmoor no more? In what rapt ether sails the world, of which the weariest will never weary? Where is the foundling’s father hidden? Our souls are like those orphans whose unwedded mothers die in bearing them: the secret of our paternity lies in their grave, and we must there to learn it.

One trembles to think of that mysterious thing in the soul, which seems to acknowledge no human jurisdiction, but in spite of the individual's own innocence self, will still dream horrid dreams, and mutter unmentionable thoughts.

Let me look into a human eye; it is better than to gaze into sea or sky; better than to gaze upon God.

We are only what we are; not what we would be; nor every thing we hope for. We are but a step in a scale, that reaches further above us than below.

There is a savor of life and immortality in substantial fare. Like balloons, we are nothing till filled.

There's magic in the water that draws all men away form the land, that leads them over hills, down creeks and streams and rivers to the sea.