Near the centre of that State of New York lies an extensive district of country, whose surface is a succession of hills and dales, or, to speak with greater deference to geographical definitions, of mountains and valleys.

How easy it is for generous sentiments, high courtesy, and chivalrous courage to lose their influence beneath the chilling blight of selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who was great in all the minor attributes of character, but who was found wanting when it became necessary to prove how much principle is superior to policy.

Hope is the most treacherous of all human fancies.

The common faults of American language are an ambition of effect, a want of simplicity, and a turgid abuse of terms.

The minority of a country is never known to agree, except in its efforts to reduce and oppress the majority.

The tendency of democracies is, in all things, to mediocrity.

Where are your combing seas, your blue water, your rollers, your breakers, your whales, or your waterspouts, and your endless motion, in this bit of a forest, child?