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.

I could...see in Emerson...that had he lived in those days when the world was made, he might have offered some valuable suggestions.

Are not half our lives spent in reproaches for foregone actions, of the true nature and consequences of which we were wholly ignorant at the time?

Nothing may help or heal While Amor incensed remembers wrong.

Twelve o'clock! It is the natural centre, key-stone, and very heart of the day. At that hour, the sun has arrived at the top of his hill; and as he seems to hang poised there a while, before coming down on the other side, it is but reasonable to suppose that he is then stopping to dine; setting an eminent example to all mankind.

Youth is immortal; Tis the elderly only grow old!

Beneath those stars is a universe of gliding monsters.