He that loveth maketh his own the grandeur he loves

We do not quite forgive a giver. The hand that feeds us is in some danger of being bitten.

The peace of the man who has forsworn the use of the bullet seems to me not quite peace, but a canting impotence.

The beautiful laws of time and space, once dislocated by our inaptitude, are holes and dens. If the hive be disturbed by rash and stupid hands, instead of honey, it will yield us bees.

The world is emblematic. Parts of speech are metaphors, because the whole of nature is a metaphor of the human mind.

A sympathetic person is placed in the dilemma of a swimmer among drowning men, who all catch at him, and if he gives so much as a leg or a finger, they will drown him.

The day is always his, who works in it with serenity and great aims.