Of all debts, men are least willing to pay their taxes; what a satire this is on government.

We know more from nature than we can at will communicate.

The sea is masculine, the type of active strength. Look, what egg-shells are drifting all over it, each one, like ours, filled with men in ecstasies of terror, alternating with cockney conceit, as the sea is rough or smooth. Is this sad-colored circle an eternal cemetery?

A walk in the woods is only an exalted dream.

The babe in arms is a channel through which the energies we call fate, love, and reason visibly stream.

Nature and literature are subjective phenomena; every evil and every good thing is a shadow which we cast

I shun father and mother and wife and brother when my genius calls me. I would write on the lintels of the door-post, Whim. I hope that it is somewhat better than whim at last, but we cannot spend the day in explanation.