Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members.

Our books approach very slowly the things we most wish to know.

If we tire of the saints, Shakspeare is our city of refuge.

We are as much strangers in nature, as we are aliens from God. We do not understand the notes of birds. The fox and the deer run away from us; the bear and tiger rend us. We do not know the uses of more than a few plants, as corn and the apple, the potato and the vine. Is not the landscape, every glimpse of which hath a grandeur, a face of him?

Prudence is the virtue of the senses. It is the science of appearances. It is the outmost action of the inward life.

The senses collect the surface facts of matter... It was sensation; when memory came, it was experience; when mind acted, it was knowledge; when mind acted on it as knowledge, it was thought.

The finest poems of the world have been expedients to get bread.