Nature fits all her children with something to do, he who would write and can't write, can surely review.

Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.

No man, I suspect, ever lived long in the country without being bitten by these meteorological ambitions. He likes to be hotter and colder, to have been more deeply snowed up, to have more trees and larger blown down than his neighbors.

Things always seem fairer when we look back at them, and it is out of that inaccessible tower of the past that Longing leans and beckons.

Pride and weakness are Siamese twins.

If youth be a defect, it is one that we outgrow only too soon.

We kind o' thought Christ went agin war an' pillage.