A man comes to measure his greatness by the regrets, envies and hatreds of his competitors.

Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members.

I find the Englishman to be him of all men who stands firmest in his shoes. They have in themselves what they value in their horses, mettle and bottom.

Our health is our sound relation to external objects; our sympathy with external being.

The good writer seems to be writing about himself, but has his eye always on that thread of the Universe which runs through himself and all things.

Society is frivolous, and shreds its day into scraps, its conversation into ceremonies and escapes.

To the body and mind which have been cramped by noxious work or company, nature is medicinal and restores their tone. The tradesman, the attorney comes out of the din and craft of the street and sees the sky and the woods, and is a man again. In their eternal calm, he finds himself.