A youth to whom was given So much of earth, so much of heaven.

To me the meanest flower that blows can give thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears.

O Reader! had you in your mind Such stores as silent thought can bring, O gentle Reader! you would find A tale in everything.

Like thoughts whose very sweetness yielded proof that they were born for immortality.

[Mathematics] is an independent world created out of pure intelligence.

May books and nature be their early joy!

Those old credulities, to Nature dear, Shall they no longer bloom upon the stock Of history?