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

Science appears but what in truth she is, Not as our glory and our absolute boast, But as a succedaneum, and a prop To our infirmity.

The earth was all before me. With a heart Joyous, nor scared at its own liberty, I look about; and should the chosen guide Be nothing better than a wandering cloud, I cannot miss my way.

The human mind is capable of excitement without the application of gross and violent stimulants; and he must have a very faint perception of its beauty and dignity who does not know this.

Spade! Thou art a tool of honor in my hands. I press thee, through a yielding soil, with pride.

Pictures deface walls more often than they decorate them.

What know we of the Blest above but that they sing, and that they love?