Manners are very communicable: men catch them from each other.

Music takes us out of the actual and whispers to us dim secrets that startles out wonder as to who we are, and for what, whence, and whereto.

The shows of the day, the dewy morning, the rainbow, mountains, orchards in blossom, stars, moonlight, shadows in still water, andthe like, if too eagerly hunted, become shows merely, and mock us with their unreality.

There is no God dare wrong a worm.

This body, full of faults, Has yet one great quality: Whatever it encounters in this temporal life depends upon one's actions.

Genius Borrows nobly.

When duty whispers low, Thou must, The youth replies, I can.