Europe extends to the Alleghenies; America lies beyond.

Words are alive. Cut them and they bleed.

Look out! Behind you!

The poet alone knows astronomy, chemistry, vegetation, and animation, for he does not stop at these facts, but employs them as signs. He knows why the plain, or meadow of space, was strown with these flowers we call suns, and moons, and stars; why the deep is adorned with animals, with men, and gods; for, in every word he speaks he rides on them as the horses of thought.

Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.

A painter told me that nobody could draw a tree without in some sort becoming a tree.

You need not fear to handle the truth roughly. She is no invalid.