We are all Greeks. Our laws, our literature, our religion, our arts, have their root in Greece.
Music, when soft voices die Vibrates in the memory.
That sweet sleep which medicines all pain.
The great instrument of moral good is the imagination.
I think that the leaf of a tree, the meanest insect on which we trample, are in themselves arguments more conclusive than any which can be adduced that some vast intellect animates Infinity.
Whatever may be his true and final destination, there is a spirit within him at enmity with nothingness and dissolution. This is the character of all life and being.