Do not you see that every misfortune is misconduct; that every honour is desert; that every effort is an insolence of your own?...You carry your fortune in your own hand.

...in the wilderness, I find something more dear and connate than in the streets or villages...in the woods we return to reason and faith.

When it's dark enough men see stars.

My companion assumes to know my mood and habit of thought, and we go on from explanation to explanation, until all is said that words can, and we leave matters just as they were at first, because of that vicious assumption.

Happy the man who never puts on a face, but receives every visitor with that countenance he has on.

We do what we must, and call it by the best names we can, and would fain have the praise of having intended the result which ensues.

Self-love is, in almost all men, such an over-weight that they are incredulous of a man's habitual preference of the general good to his own; but when they see it proved by sacrifices of ease, wealth, rank, and of life itself, there is no limit to their admiration.