Friend, hast thou considered the "rugged, all-nourishing earth," as Sophocles well names her; how she feeds the sparrow on the housetop, much more her darling man?

I want to meet my God awake.

Thought, true labor of any kind, highest virtue itself, is it not the daughter of Pain?

The great silent man! Looking round on the noisy inanity of the world,--words with little meaning, actions with little worth,--one loves to reflect on the great Empire of Silence.

Histories are a kind of distilled newspapers.

For all right judgment of any man or things it is useful, nay, essential, to see his good qualities before pronouncing on his bad.

Experience is the best of school masters, only the school fees are heavy.