Some people will tell you there is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.

The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight.

I have just been conversing with one man, to whom no weight of adverse experience will make it for a moment appear impossible that thousands of human beings might exercise towards each other the grandest and simplest sentiments, as well as a knot of friends, or a pair of lovers.

But your isolation must not be mechanical, but spiritual, that is, must be elevation.

Although this garrulity of advising is born with us, I confess that life is rather a subject of wonder, than of didactics. So muchfate, so much irresistible dictation from temperament and unknown inspiration enter into it, that we doubt we can say anything out of our own experience whereby to help each other.

Good breeding, a union of kindness and independence.

A deep man believes that the evil eye can whither, the heart's blessing can heal, and that love can overcome all odds.