Heaven sometimes hedges a rare character about with ungainliness and odium, as the burr that protects the fruit.

The heroic soul does not sell its justice and its nobleness.

Friendship is an order of nobility; from its revelations we come more worthily into nature.

The service a man renders his friend is trivial and selfish, compared with the service he knows his friend stood in readiness to yield him, alike before he had begun to serve his friend, and now also. Compared with that good-will I bear my friend, the benefit it is in my power to render him seems small.

We see the world piece by piece, as the sun, the moon, the animal, the tree; but the whole, of which these are shining parts, is the soul.

Power ceases in the instant of repose; it resides in the moment of transition from a past to a new state, in the shooting of the gulf, in the darting to an aim.

We are thus assisted by natural objects in the expression of particular meanings. But how great a language to convey such pepper-corn informations!