There is no flesh in man's obdurate heart; he does not feel for man.

The Cross! There, and there only (though the deist rave, and the atheist, if Earth bears so base a slave); There and there only, is the power to save.

The beggarly last doit.

Made poetry a mere mechanic art.

Oh to have a lodge in some vast wilderness. Where rumors of oppression and deceit, of unsuccessful and successful wars may never reach me anymore.

Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, the mere materials with which wisdom builds, till smoothed and squared and fitted to its place, does but encumber whom it seems to enrich. Knowledge is proud that he has learned so much; wisdom is humble that he knows no more.

But, oh, Thou bounteous Giver of all good, Thou art, of all Thy gifts, Thyself thy crown!