Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given; The dearest child of Faith is Miracle.

The flowers of life are but visionary. How many pass away and leave no trace behind! How few yield any fruit,--and the fruit itself, how rarely does it ripen! And yet there are flowers enough; and is it not strange, my friend, that we should suffer the little that does really ripen to rot, decay, and perish unenjoyed?

Should I not be proud, when for twenty years I have had to admit to myself that the great Newton and all the mathematicians and noble calculators along with him were involved in a decisive error with respect to the doctrine of color, and that I among millions was the only one who knew what was right in this great subject of nature?

A man is not little when he finds it difficult to cope with circumstances, but when circumstances overmaster him.

All of us have life; few of us have an idea of it.

Love does not rule; but it trains, and that is more.

The field of experience is the whole universe in all directions. Theory remains shut up within the limits of human faculties.