How many years must a man do nothing, before he can at all know what is to be done and how to do it!

I consider him of no account who esteems himself just as the popular breath may chance to raise him.

Everything that we encounter leaves traces behind. Everything contributes imperceptibly to our education

Our destiny often looks like a fruit-tree in winter. Who would think from its pitiable aspect that those rigid boughs, those rough twigs could next spring again be green, bloom, and even bear fruit? Yet we hope it, we know it.

Rest not. Life is sweeping by; go and dare before you die. Something mighty and sublime, leave behind to conquer time.

two souls, alas, are housed within my breast, and each will wrestle for the mastery there.

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?