Though love repine, and reason chafe, There came a voice without reply,- "'Tis man's perdition to be safe, When for the truth he ought to die."

This immediate dependence of language upon nature, this conversion of an outward phenomenon into a type of somewhat in human life,never loses its power to affect us. It is this which gives that piquancy to the conversation of a strong-natured farmer or backwoodsman, which all men relish.

Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be.

I can reason down or deny everything, except this perpetual Belly: feed he must and will, and I cannot make him respectable.

Do your thing, and I shall know you.

The cure for false theology is motherwit. Forget your books and traditions, and obey your moral perceptions at this hour.

Wise cultivated, genial conversation is the last flower of civilization, and the best result which life has to offer us,--a cup for gods, which has no repentance. Conversation is our account of ourselves. All we have, all we can, all we know, is brought into play, and as the reproduction in finer form, of all our havings.