A sealed book, at whose contents we tremble.
I will look on the stars and look on thee, and read the page of thy destiny.
It is amazing how much a thought expands and refines by being put into speech: I should think it could hardly know itself.
Childhood, whose very happiness is love.
Youth is a season that has no repose.
No thoroughly occupied man was ever yet very miserable.[to feel unhappy you need the time to consider how your lot could be better]