The glory of the farmer is that, in the division of labors, it is his part to create. All trade rests at last on his primitive activity. He stands close to Nature; he obtains from the earth the bread and the meat. The food which was not, he causes to be.

Harmony of aim, not identity of conclusion, is the secret of sympathetic life.

It is not length of life, but depth of life.

Life itself is ... a sleep within a sleep.

In skating over thin ice our safety is in our speed.

We boil at different degrees.

When we see a soul whose acts are all regal, graceful, and pleasant as roses, we must thank God that such things can be and are.