The men who carry their points do not need to inquire of their constituents what they should say, but are themselves the country which they represent: nowhere are its emotions or opinions so instant and so true as in them; nowhere so pure from a selfish infusion.

The etymologist finds the deadest word to have been once a brilliant picture.

Here is the world, sound as a nut, perfect, not the smallest piece of chaos left, never a stitch nor an end, not a mark of haste, or botching, or second thought; but the theory of the world is a thing of shreds and patches.

The world is all outside, it has no inside.

Only that is poetry which cleanses and mans me.

Men in all ways are better than they seem.

Self reliance, the height and perfection of man, is reliance on God.