In the vaunted works of Art, The master-stroke is Nature's part.

It does not to dwell on dreams and forget to live, but it is equally foolish to ignore the past – never forget.

For, the sense of being which in calm hours rises, we know not how, in the soul, is not diverse from things, from space, from light, from time, from man, but one with them, and proceeds obviously from the same source whence their life and being also proceed. We first share the life by which things exist, and afterwards see them as appearances in nature, and forget that we have shared their cause. Here is the fountain of action and of thought.

The sower may mistake and sow his peas crookedly; the peas make no mistake, but come up and show his line.

We walk alone in the world. Friends, such as we desire, are dreams and fables.

A man's wife has more power over him than the state has.

All things with which we deal preach to us. What is a farm but a mute gospel? The chaff and the wheat, weeds and plants, blight, rain, insects, sun,--it is a sacred emblem from the first furrow of spring to the last stack which the snow of winter overtakes in the fields.