All things are known to the soul.

Let there be worse cotton and better men.

Indeed the river is a perpetual gala, and boasts each month a new ornament.

Our admiration of the antique is not admiration of the old, but of the natural.

We imperatively require a perception of and a homage to beauty in our companions. Other virtues are in request in the field and workyard, but a certain degree of taste is not to be spared in those we sit with.

Thus inevitably does the universe wear our color, and every object fall successively into the subject itself. The subject exists, the subject enlarges; all things sooner or later fall into place. As I am, so I see; use what language we will, we can never say anything but what we are.

There is health in table talk and nursery play. We must wear old shoes and have aunts and cousins.