Scenery is fine - but human nature is finer.
Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.
But let me see thee stoop from heaven on wings That fill the sky with silver glitterings!
There is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object.
I love your hills and I love your dales, And I love your flocks a-bleating; but oh, on the heather to lie together, With both our hearts a-beating!
Give me books, French wine, fruit, fine weather and a little music played out of doors by somebody I do not know.