We boast our emancipation from many superstitions; but if we have broken any idols, it is through a transfer of idolatry.

Books are the best of things, well used; abused, among the worst...They are for nothing but to inspire.

God has delegated himself to a million deputies.

Rhodora! If the sages ask thee why This charm is wasted on the earth and sky, Tell them, dear, that if eyes were made for seeing, Then Beauty is its own excuse for being.

But every jet of chaos which threatens to exterminate us is convertible by intellect into wholesome force. Fate is unpenetrated causes.

Talent finds its models, methods, and ends in society, exists for exhibition, and goes to the soul only for power to work. Genius is its own end, and draws its means and the style of its architecture from within.

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