We learn geology the morning after the earthquake, on ghastly diagrams of cloven mountains, upheaved plains, and the dry bed of the sea.

Manners are the happy ways of doing things; each once a stroke of genius or of love, now repeated and hardened into usage.

It is said, no man can write but one book; and if a man have a defect, it is apt to leave its impression on all his performances.

The only thing grief has taught me is to know how shallow it is.

The solitary knows the essence of the thought, the scholar in society only its fair face.

A cheerful, intelligent face is the end of culture.

We may climb into the thin and cold realm of pure geometry and lifeless science, or sink into that of sensation. Between these extremes is the equator of life, of thought, or spirit, or poetry,--a narrow belt.