Happy season of virtuous youth, when shame is still an impassable barrier, and the sacred air-cities of hope have not shrunk into the mean clay hamlets of reality; and man, by his nature, is yet infinite and free.

Adversity is the diamond dust Heaven polishes its jewels with.

Worship is transcendent wonder.

Silence is the eternal duty of man.

Venerable to me is the hard hand,--crooked, coarse,--wherein, notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indispensably royal as of the sceptre of the planet.

The steam-engine I call fire-demon and great; but it is nothing to the invention of fire.

Society is founded upon Cloth.