It is long ere we discover how rich we are. Our history, we are sure, is quite tame: we have nothing to write, nothing to infer. But our wiser years still run back to the despised recollections of childhood. . . .
Any work looks wonderful to me except the one which I can do.
Every stoic was a stoic; but in Christendom where is the Christian?
Fear God, and where you go men shall think they walk in hallowed cathedrals.
Lose yourself in nature and find peace
We can only be valued as we make ourselves valuable.