There is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, in work. Were he never so benighted, forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works: in idleness alone there is perpetual despair.

He who cannot withal keep his mind to himself cannot practice any considerable thing whatsoever.

The mystery of a person, indeed, is ever divine to him that has a sense for the godlike.

Music is well said to be the speech of angels; in fact, nothing among the utterances allowed to man is felt to be so divine. It brings us near to the infinite.

Eyes bright, with many tears, behind them.

To the mean eye all things are trivial, as certainly as to the jaundiced they are yellow.

The man of life upright has a guiltless heart, free from all dishonest deeds or thought of vanity.