Real action is in silent moments.

A man is known by the books he reads, by the company he keeps, by the praise he gives, by his dress, by his tastes, by his distastes, by the stories he tells, by his gait, by the notion of his eye, by the look of his house, of his chamber; for nothing on earth is solitary but every thing hath affinities infinite.

The roses under my window make no reference to former roses or better ones; they are what they are; they exist with God today. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence.

I unsettle all things.

Everything is made of one hidden stuff.

We are too civil to books. For a few golden sentences we will turn over and actually read a volume of four or five hundred pages.

To a physician, each man, each woman, is an amplification of one organ.