Sooner or later that which is now life shall be poetry, and every fair and manly trait shall add a richer strain to the song.

Every day, the sun; and, after sunset, night and her stars. Ever the winds blow; ever the grass grows. Every day, men and women, conversing, beholding and beholden. The scholar is he of all men whom this spectacle most engages. He must settle its value in his mind. What is nature to him?

Heaven is large, and affords space for all modes of love and fortitude.

When there is no vision, people perish.

Truth is beautiful within and without, forevermore.

Men are what their mothers made them.

There was never anything that did not proceed from a thought.