There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every one, Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on.

Each day the world is born anew for him who takes it rightly.

A weed is no more than a flower in disguise, Which is seen through at once, if love give a man eyes.

He gives us the very quintessence of perception,-the clearly crystalized precipitation of all that is most precious in the ferment of impression after the impertinent and obtrusive particulars have evaporated from the memory.

The path of nature is, indeed, a narrow one, and it is only the immortals that seek it, and, when they find it, do not find themselves cramped therein.

Endurance is the crowning quality.

Large charity doth never soil, but only whitens soft white hands.