I see the spectacle of morning from the hilltop over against my house, from daybreak to sunrise, with emotions which an angel might share. The long slender bars of cloud float like fishes in the sea of crimson light. From the earth, as a shore, I look out into that silent sea. I seem to partake its rapid transformations; the active enchantment reaches my dust, and I dilate and conspire with the morning wind.

Man is a piece of the universe made alive

The things we now esteem fixed shall, one by one, detach themselves, like ripe fruit, from our experience, and fall. The wind shall blow them none knows whither.

Whenever the pulpit is usurped by a formalist, then is the worshipper defrauded and disconsolate.

For every grain of wit there is a grain of folly.

People only see what they are prepared to see.

Human beings cannot endure the geological chaos they encounter under the soil of their own gardens.