Is it not strange, that an infant should be heir of the whole world, and see those mysteries which the books of the learned never unfold?

The soul is made for action, and cannot rest till it be employed. Idleness is its rust. Unless it will up and think and taste and see, all is in vain.

This moment exhibits infinite space, but there is a space also wherein all moments are infinitely exhibited, and the everlasting duration of infinite space is another region and room of joys.

Principles are like a seed in the ground; they must continually be visited with heavenly influences or else your life will be a barren field.

We love we know not what, and therefore everything allures us.

You never enjoy the world aright, till the sea itself floweth in your veins, till you are clothed with the heavens and crowned with the stars.

Is it not strange, that an infant should be heir of the whole world, and see those mysteries which the books of the learned never unfold?