Who can . . . guess how much industry and providence and affection we have caught from the pantomime of brutes?

Self trust is the essence of heroism.

Deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth.

The world is upheld by the veracity of good men: they make the earth wholesome. They who lived with them found life glad and nutritious. Life is sweet and tolerable only in our belief in such society.

The roses under my window make no reference to former roses or better ones; they are what they are; they exist with God today. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence.

The sky is the ultimate art gallery just above us.

I will not hide my tastes or aversions. I will so trust that what is deep is holy, that I will do strongly before the sun and moon whatever only rejoices me, and the heart appoints