Love withers under constraints: its very essence is liberty: it is compatible neither with obedience, jealousy, nor fear.

[L]ike thee to those in sorrow, Comes to bid a sweet good-morrow To the rough year just awake In its cradle on the brake. The brightest hour of unborn Spring, Through the winter wandering, Found, it seems, the halcyon Morn To hoar February born.

Man who man would be, must rule the empire of himself.

We live and move and think; but we are not the creators of our own origin and existence. We are not the arbiters of every motion of our own complicated nature; we are not the masters of our own imaginations and moods of mental being.

In the infancy of society every author is necessarily a poet

There is a harmony in autumn, and a luster in its sky, which through the summer is not heard or seen, as if it could not be, as if it had not been!

God is a hypothesis, and, as such, stands in need of proof; the onus probandi rests on the theist.