O Time! Time! how it brings forth and devours! And the roaring flood of existence rushes on forever similar, forever changing!

What is nature? Art thou not the living government of God? O Heaven, is it in very deed He then that ever speaks through thee, that lives and loves in thee, that lives and loves in me?

In books lies the soul of the whole Past Time; the articulate audible voice of the Past, when the body and material substance of it has altogether vanished like a dream.

Silence is more eloquent than words.

Hardened round us, encasing wholly every notion we form is a wrapping of traditions, hearsay's, and mere words.

No conquest can ever become permanent which does not show itself beneficial to the conquered as well as to the conquerors.

What are your Axioms, and Categories, and Systems, and Aphorisms? Words, words.... Be not the slave of Words.