The great secret of morals is Love; or a going out of our own nature, and an identification of ourselves with the beautiful which exists in thought, action, or person, not our own.

Religion! but for thee, prolific fiend, Who peoplest earth with demons, hell with men, And heaven with slaves!

A God made by man undoubtedly has need of man to make himself known to man.

Ah, woe is me! Winter is come and gone. But grief returns with the revolving year.

God is represented as infinite, eternal, incomprehensible; he is contained under every predicate in non that the logic of ignorance could fabricate.

Duty and dereliction guide thee back to solitude.

No more let life divide what death can join together.