A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.

Our moods do not believe in each other. To-day I am full of thoughts, and can write what I please. I see no reason why I should not have the same thought, the same power of expression, to-morrow. What I write, whilst I write it, seems the most natural thing in the world; but yesterday I saw a dreary vacuity in this direction in which now I see so much; and a month hence, I doubt not, I shall wonder who he was that wrote so many continuous pages. Alas for this infirm faith, this will not strenuous, this vast ebb of a vast flow! I am God in nature; I am a weed by the wall.

The charm of fine manners is music and sculpture and picture to many who do not pretend to appreciation of these arts.

Thought dissolves the material universe by carrying the mind up into a sphere where all is plastic.

It is commonly said by farmers, that a good pear or apple costs no more time or pains to rear, than a poor one; so I would have no work of art, no speech, or action, or thought, or friend, but the best.

Condense some daily experience into a glowing symbol and an audience is electrified.

The order of things consents to virtue.