I believe a leaf of grass is no less than the journey-work of the stars.

Dazzling and tremendous how quick the sun-rise would kill me, if I could not now and always send sun-rise out of me.

At times it has been doubtful to me if Emerson really knows or feels what Poetry is at its highest, as in the Bible, for instance, or Homer or Shakspeare. I see he covertly or plainly likes best superb verbal polish, or something old or odd

What do you suppose will satisfy the soul, except to walk free and own no superior?

This hour I tell things in confidence/ I might not tell everybody, but I will tell you.

I give you my hand, I give you my love more precious than money, I give you myself before preaching or law; Will you give me yourself?

As soon as histories are properly told there is no more need of romances.