'Tis a superstition to insist on a special diet. All is made at last of the same chemical atoms.

To laugh often and much ... this is to have succeeded. Probably not from Emerson: here's the full quotation and the story.

Words are finite organs of the infinite mind. They cannot cover the dimensions of what is in truth. They break, chop, and impoverish it.

Sentimentalists ... adopt whatever merit is in good repute, and almost make it hateful with their praise. The warmer their expressions, the colder we feel.... Cure the drunkard, heal the insane, mollify the homicide, civilize the Pawnee, but what lessons can be devised for the debauchee of sentiment?

The passive master lent his hand, To the vast Soul which o'er him planned.

Even in the mud and scum of things, something always, always sings.

[D]ivine Providence... keeps the universe open in every direction to the soul.