There is never a beginning, there is never an end, to the inexplicable continuity of this web of God, but always circular power returning into itself.

We live in succession, in division, in parts, in particles. Meantime within man is the soul of the whole; the wise silence; the universal beauty, to which every part and particle is equally related, the eternal ONE. And this deep power in which we exist and whose beatitude is all accessible to us, is not only self-sufficing and perfect in every hour, but the act of seeing and the thing seen, the seer and the spectacle, the subject and the object, are one. 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.

Every day, the sun; and, after sunset, night and her stars. Ever the winds blow; ever the grass grows. Every day, men and women, conversing, beholding and beholden. The scholar is he of all men whom this spectacle most engages. He must settle its value in his mind. What is nature to him?

The life of labor does not make men, but drudges.

Hast thou named all the birds without a gun?

I DO not count the hours I spend In wandering by the sea; The forest is my loyal friend, Like God it useth me.

To laugh often and much ... this is to have succeeded. Probably not from Emerson: here's the full quotation and the story.