If God has spoken, why is the world not convinced.
This lake exceeds anything I ever beheld in beauty.
Worlds on worlds are rolling ever From creation to decay, Like the bubbles on a river Sparkling, bursting, borne away.
Design must be proved before a designer can be inferred.
I love snow, snow, and all the forms of radiant frost.
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.