We have not read an author till we have seen his object, whatever it may be, as he saw it.

Alas! we know that ideals can never be completely embodied in practice. Ideals must ever lie a great way off--and we will thankfully content ourselves with any not intolerable approximation thereto! Let no man, as Schiller says, too querulously "measure by a scale of perfection the meager product of reality" in this poor world of ours.

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?

Originality is a thing we constantly clamour for, and constantly quarrel with.

It is the heart always that sees, before the head can see.

Custom doth make dotards of us all.

Feel it in thy heart and then say whether it is of God!