The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.
And gentle winds and waters near, make music to the lonely ear.
Her great merit is finding out mine; there is nothing so amiable as discernment.
My altars are the mountains and the ocean.
Men think highly of those who rise rapidly in the world; whereas nothing rises quicker than dust, straw, and feathers.
I live not in myself, but I become Portion of that around me: and to me High mountains are a feeling, but the hum of human cities torture.