I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between Man and his Maker.

This is to be along; this, this is solitude!

Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.

Letter writing is the only device combining solitude with good company.

I have always laid it down as a maxim -and found it justified by experience -that a man and a woman make far better friendships than can exist between two of the same sex -but then with the condition that they never have made or are to make love to each other.

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

I am the very slave of circumstance And impulse -- borne away with every breath!