Reading Chaucer is like brushing through the dewy grass at sunrise.

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.

That cause is strong which has, not a multitude, but one strong man behind it.

Where one person shapes their life by precept and example, there are a thousand who have shaped it by impulse and circumstances.

Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.

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.

The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions.