The sky is the daily bread of the eyes.
There is properly no history only biography.
The disease with which the human mind now labors is want of faith.
We do not live an equal life but one of contrasts and patchwork now a little joy then a sorrow now a sin then a generous or brave action.
Whatever you do you need courage. ... To map out a course of action and follow it to an end requires some of the same courage which a soldier needs.
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself...
America is a country of young men.
When a man is pushed tormented defeated he has a chance to learn something he has been put on his wits ... he has gained facts learned his ignorance is cured of the insanity of conceit has got...
Never read a book that is not a year old.
Evermore in the world is this marvelous balance of beauty and disgust, magnificence and rats.
What I must do, is all that concerns me, not what the people think. This rule, equally arduous in actual and in intellectual life, may serve for the whole distinction between greatness and meanness. I...
There are only ten minutes in the life of a pear when it is perfect to eat.
The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.
The never-ending task of self improvement.
She shows us only surfaces but Nature is a million fathoms deep.
Nature is a language and every new fact one learns is a new word; but it is not a language taken to pieces and dead in the dictionary, but the language put together into a most significant and univers...
We cannot approach beauty. Its nature is like opaline doves'-neck lustres, hovering and evanescent. Herein it resembles the most excellent things, which all have this rainbow character, defying all at...
Outside, among your fellows, among strangers, you must perceive appearances, a hundred things you cannot do; but inside, the terrible freedom!
Ideas must work through the brains and arms of men, or they are no better than dreams
The South-wind bringsLife, sunshine and desire,And on every mount and meadowBreathes aromatic fire;But over the dead he has no power,The lost, the lost, he cannot restore;And, looking over the hills,...