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

A man is old when he can pass an apple orchard and not remember the stomachache.

Taste is the next gift to genius.

Suddenly all the sky is hid As with the shutting of a lid, One by one great drops are falling Doubtful and slow, Down the pane they are crookedly crawling, And the wind breathes low; Slowly the circles widen on the river, Widen and mingle, one and all; Here and there the slenderer flowers shiver, Struck by an icy rain-drop’s fall.

All the beautiful sentiments in the world weigh less than a single lovely action.

If one waits for the right time to come before writing, the right time never comes.

God's livery is a very plain one; but its wearers have good reason to be content. If it have not so much gold-lace about it as Satan's, it keeps out foul weather better, and is besides a great deal cheaper.