The universe does not jest with us, but is in earnest.

Plants are the young of the world, vessels of health and vigor; but they grope ever upward towards consciousness; the trees are imperfect men, and seem to bemoan their imprisonment, rooted in the ground.

Only by obedience to his genius; only by the freest activity in the way constitutional to him, does an angel seem to arise beforea man, and lead him by the hand out of all the wards of the prison.

"Do not call yourself an "artist-photographer" and make "artist-painters" and "artist-sculptors" laugh; call yourself a photographer and wait for artists to call you brother."

Headwinds are sore vexations and the more passengers the sorer.

The man of genius inspires us with a boundless confidence in our own powers.

We see God face to face every hour, and know the savor of Nature.