My altars are the mountains and the ocean.

In England the only homage which they pay to Virtue - is hypocrisy.

And angling too, that solitary vice, What Izaak Walton sings or says: The quaint, old, cruel coxcomb, in his gullet Should have a hook, and a small trout to pull it.

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.

They used to say that knowledge is power. I used to think so, but I know now they mean money.

The lapse of ages changes all things - time, language, the earth, the bounds of the sea, the stars of the sky, and every thing about, around, and underneath man, except man himself.

No words suffice the secret soul to show, For truth denies all eloquence to woe.