The mob is man voluntarily descending to the nature of the beast. Its fit hour of activity is night. Its actions are insane like its whole constitution. It persecutes a principle; it would whip a right; it would tar and feather justice, by inflicting fire and outrage upon the houses and persons of those who have these. It resembles the prank of boys, who run with fire-engines to put out the ruddy aurora streaming to the stars.

Conformity is the ape of harmony.

Indeed the river is a perpetual gala, and boasts each month a new ornament.

The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.

Let him go where he will, he can only find so much beauty or worth as he carries.

There are no days in life so memorable as those which vibrate to some stroke of the imagination.

How shall a man escape from his ancestors, or draw off from his veins the black drop which he drew from his father's or mother's life?