We Americans are the peculiar, chosen people - the Israel of our time; we bear the ark of the liberties of the world.
To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain.
For all his tattooings he was on the whole a clean, comely looking cannibal.
I am past scorching; not easily can’st thou scorch a scar.
Out of the trunk, the branches grow; out of them, the twigs. So, in productive subjects, grow the chapters.
O Nature, and O soul of man! how far beyond all utterance are your linked analogies; not the smallest atom stirs or lives on matter, but has its cunning duplicate in mind.