There are faces so fluid with expression, so flushed and rippled by the play of thought, that we can hardly find what the mere features really are. When the delicious beauty of lineament loses its power, it is because a more delicious beauty has appeared, that an interior and durable form has been disclosed.

In imitation is a bit suicide.

A dilettantism in nature is barren and unworthy. A fop of fields is no better than his brother on Broadway.

Genius has infused itself into nature. It indicates itself by a small excess of good, a small balance in brute facts always favorable to the side of reason.

Life wastes itself whilst we are preparing to live.

The scholar may lose himself in schools, in words, and become a pedant; but when he comprehends his duties, he above all men is arealist, and converses with things.

There is health in table talk and nursery play. We must wear old shoes and have aunts and cousins.