An expense of ends to means is fate;Morganization tyrannizing over character. The menagerie, or forms and powers of the spine, is a book of fate: the bill of the bird, the skull of the snake, determines tyrannically its limits.

Love should make joy; but our benevolence is unhappy. Our Sunday-schools, and churches, and pauper-societies are yokes to the neck. We pain ourselves to please nobody.

Common sense is genius dressed in its working clothes.

In daily life what distinguishes the master is the using those materials he has, instead of looking about for what are more renowned, or what others have used well.

Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend

Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting some on yourself.

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