The eye is easily frightened.

Literature is eavesdropping.

No man can help another without helping himself.

There is no one who does not exaggerate. In conversation, men are encumbered with personality, and talk too much.

An orchard, good tillage, good grounds, seem a fixture, like a gold mine, or a river, to a citizen; but to a large farmer, not much more fixed than the state of the crop.

The babe in arms is a channel through which the energies we call fate, love, and reason visibly stream.

It is a luxury to be understood.