What is addressed to us for contemplation does not threaten us, but makes us intellectual beings.

Truth is handsomer than the affectation of love. Your goodness must have some edge to it, else it is none.

Sickness is poor-spirited, and cannot serve anyone; it must husband its resources to live. But health or fullness answers its own ends, and has to spare, runs over, and inundates the neighborhoods and creeks of other men's necessities.

The universe does not jest with us, but is in earnest.

A vivid thought brings the power to paint it; and in proportion to the depth of its source is the force of its projection.

Thought dissolves the material universe by carrying the mind up into a sphere where all is plastic.

Can anything be so elegant as to have few wants, and to serve them one's self?