There can be no excess to love, none to knowledge, none to beauty.

What is a weed? A plant whose virtues have not yet been discovered.[What is a sorrow? A feeling whose benefits have not yet been discovered]

Why need I volumes, if one word suffice?

I feel some unwillingness to quit the remembrance of the past. With all the hope of the new I feel that we are leaving the old.

I feel the same truth how often in my trivial conversation with my neighbours, that somewhat higher in each of us overlooks this by-play, and Jove nods to Jove from behind each of us.

Nature never wears a mean appearance. Neither does the wisest man extort her secret, and lose his curiosity by finding out all her perfection.

The faith that stands on authority is not faith.