Mankind are earthen jugs with spirits in them.

To the untrue man, the whole universe is false- it is impalpable- it shrinks to nothing within his grasp. And he himself is in so far as he shows himself in a false light, becomes a shadow, or, indeed, ceases to exist.

Is it a fact-or have I dreamt it-that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?

A pure hand needs no glove to cover it.

A man--poet, prophet, or whatever be may be--readily persuades himself of his right to all the worship that is voluntarily tendered.

I wish I had the gift of making rhymes, for methinks there is poetry in my head and heart since I have been in love with you.

There is no such thing in man's nature as a settled and full resolve either for good or evil, except at the very moment of execution.