Beautiful is old age—beautiful as the slow-dropping mellow autumn of a rich glorious summer. In the old man, Nature has fulfilled her work; she loads him with blessings; she fills him with the fruits of a well-spent life; and, surrounded by his children and his children's children, she rocks him softly away to a grave, to which he is followed with blessings. God forbid we should not call it beautiful.

Experience teaches slowly, and at the cost of mistakes.

The moral system of the universe is like a document written in alternate ciphers, which change from line to line.

Science rests on reason and experiment, and can meet an opponent with calmness; [but] a creed is always sensitive.

In every department of life--in its business and in its pleasures, in its beliefs and in its theories, in its material developments and in its spiritual connections--we thank God that we are not like our fathers.

The best that we can do for one another is to exchange our thoughts freely; and that, after all, is about all.

Truth only smells sweet forever, and illusions, however innocent, are deadly as the canker worm.