The cold, inconsiderate of persons, tingles your blood, benumbs your feet, freezes a man like an apple.

I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new.

The history of persecution is a history of endeavors to cheat nature, to make water run up hill, to twist a rope of sand.

Only be admonished by what you already see, not to strike leagues of friendship with cheap persons, where no friendship can be. Our impatience betrays us into rash and foolish alliances which no God attends.

A sympathetic person is placed in the dilemma of a swimmer among drowning men, who all catch at him, and if he gives so much as a leg or a finger, they will drown him.

We fly to beauty as an asylum from the terrors of finite nature.

Whatever appeals to the imagination, by transcending the ordinary limits of human ability, wonderfully encourages and liberates us.