The multitude of false churches accredits the true religion.

Beauty is an outward gift, which is seldom despised, except by those to whom it has been refused.

The lover of nature is he whose inward and outward senses are still truly adjusted to each other; who has retained the spirit of infancy even into the era of manhood. His intercourse with heaven and earth, becomes part of his daily food. In the presence of nature, a wild delight runs through the man, in spite of real sorrows.

The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with something of wild, creative delight.

Each moment of the year has its own beauty.

Money is the representative of a certain quantity of corn or other commodity. It is so much warmth, so much bread.

What is well done, I feel as if I did; what is ill-done, I reck not of.