Great country, diminutive minds. America is formless, has no terrible and no beautiful condensation.

Slavery is no scholar, no improver; it does not love the whistle of the railroad; it does not love the newspaper, the mailbag, a college, a book or a preacher who has the absurd whim of saying what he thinks; it does not increase the white population; it does not improve the soil; everything goes to decay.

An orator or author is never successful till he has learned to make his words smaller than his ideas.

Far off, men swell, bully, and threaten; bring them hand to hand, and they are feeble folk.

Heaven is large, and affords space for all modes of love and fortitude.

For what are they all in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet?

Be as beneficent as the sun or the sea, but if your rights as a rational being are trenched on, die on the first inch of your territory.