I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid and self-contained, I stand and look at them long and long.

Of all mankind the great poet is the equable man. Not in him but off from him things are grotesque or eccentric or fail of their sanity.

O the joy of the strong-brawn'd fighter, towering in the arena in perfect condition, conscious of power, thirsting to meet his opponent.

I dote on myself. There is a lot of me and all so luscious.

Wisdom is not finally tested by the schools, Wisdom cannot be pass'd from one having it to another not having it, Wisdom is of the soul, is not susceptible of proof, is its own proof.

What has miserable, inefficient Mexico...to do with the great mission of peopling the New World with a noble race?

If you want me again look for me under your boot soles.