Not a deed would he do, Not a word would he utter, Till he's weighed its relation To plain bread and butter.
I who still pray at morning and at eve Thrice in my life perhaps have truly prayed, Thrice stirred below conscious self Have felt that perfect disenthrallment which is God.
It may be conjectured that it is cheaper in the long run to lift men up than to hold them down, and that the ballot in their hands is less dangerous to society than a sense of wrong is in their heads.
In the scale of the destinies, brawn will never weigh so mach as brain.
The path of nature is, indeed, a narrow one, and it is only the immortals that seek it, and, when they find it, do not find themselves cramped therein.
Tis as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle slaves.
Among the lessons taught by the French revolution, there is none sadder or more striking than this--that you may make everything else out of the passions of men except a political system that will work, and that there is nothing so pitilessly and unconsciously cruel as sincerity formulated into dogma.
To put more faith in lies and hate than truth and love, is the true atheism.
Puritanism, believing itself quick with the seed of religious liberty, laid, without knowing it, the egg of democracy.
Before Man made us citizens, great Nature made us men.
Many make the household but only one the home.
He gives us the very quintessence of perception,-the clearly crystalized precipitation of all that is most precious in the ferment of impression after the impertinent and obtrusive particulars have evaporated from the memory.
Our seasons have no fixed returns, Without our will they come and go; At noon our sudden summer burns, Ere sunset all is snow.
I tell ye wut, my judgment is you're pooty sure to fail, Ez long 'z the head keeps turnin' back for counsel to the the tail.
I don't believe in principle, but I do in interest.
Sentiment is intellectualized emotion; emotion precipitated, as it were, in pretty crystals by the fancy.
From lower to the higher next, Not to the top, is Nature's text; And embryo Good, to reach full stature, Absorbs the Evil in its nature.
Worshippers of light ancestral make the present light a crime.
The nunneries of silent nooks, the murmured longing of the wood.
To be young is surely the best, if the most precarious, gift of life.
My soul is not a palace of the past.
Here come the hum the golden bees Underneath full blossomed trees, At once with glowing fruit and flowers crowned.
There is surely room for yet another schoolmaster when a score of seers advertise themselves in Boston newspapers.
Pride of origin, whether high or low, springs from the same principle in human nature; one is but the positive, the other the negative, pole of a single weakness.
Fate loves best such syllables as are sweet and sonorous on the tongue.
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