Of all tools, an observatory is the most sublime. . . . What is so good in a college as an observatory? The sublime attaches to the door and to the first stair you ascent, that this is the road to the stars.

Society is frivolous, and shreds its day into scraps, its conversation into ceremonies and escapes.

What is there of the divine in a load of brick? What ... in a barber shop? ... Much. All.

The human heart concerns us more than the poring into microscopes, and is larger than can be measured by the pompous figures of the astronomer.

We do not yet trust the unknown power of thoughts.

When we have broken our god of tradition, and ceased from our god of rhetoric, then may God fire the heart with His presence.

The hero is he who is immovably centered.