I think it is the best of humanity that goes out to walk. In happy hours, I think all affairs may be wisely postponed for walking.

The days are made on a loom whereof the warp and woof are past and future time. They are majestically dressed, as if every god brought a thread to the skyey web.

By necessity, by proclivity, and by delight, we all quote.

We must not inquire too curiously into the absolute value of literature. Enough that it amuses and exercises us. At least it leaves us where we were. It names things, but does not add things.

The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed, there is no winter and no night; all tragedies, all ennui s, vanish, all duties even.

Our faith comes in moments; our vice is habitual.

We gain the strength of the temptation we resist.