I see not any road of perfect peace which a man can walk but after the counsel of his own bosom.
Travel is a fools paradise.
No book was ever written down by any but itself.
The tempered light of the woods is like a perpetual morning.
Nature is reckless of the individual. When she has points to carry, she carries them.
Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.