We shun the rugged battle of fate where strength is born.
Solitude, the safeguard of mediocrity, is to genius the stern friend
He that rides his hobby gently must always give way to him that rides his hobby hard.
To have played and laughed with enthusiasm, and sung with exultation - this to to have succeeded.
The laws of light and of heat translate each other;-so do the laws of sound and colour; and so galvanism, electricity and magnetism are varied forms of this selfsame energy.
Coal is a portable climate.
The most Indian thing about the Indian is surely not his moccasins or his calumet, his wampum or his stone hatched, but traits of character and sagacity, skill, or passion.
He who loves the bristle of bayonets only sees in the glitter what beforehand he feels in his heart. It is avarice and hatred; it is that quivering lip, that cold, hating eye, which built magazines and powder-houses.
Necessity does everything well.
Civilization depends on morality.
All writing comes by the grace of God.
Nature is no sentimentalist, - does not cosset or pamper us. We must see that the world is rough and surly, and will not mind drowning a man or a woman; but swallows your ship like a grain of dust. The cold, inconsiderate of persons, tingles your blood, benumbs your feet, freezes a man like an apple. The diseases, the elements, fortune, gravity, lightning, respect no persons.
Nature is a tropical swamp in sunshine, on whose purlieus we hear the song of summer birds, and see prismatic dewdrops, - but her interiors are terrific, full of hydras and crocodiles.
As I walked in the woods I felt what I often feel that nothing can befall me in life, no calamity, no disgrace (leaving me my eyes) to which Nature will not offer a sweet consolation. Standing on the bare ground with my head bathed by the blithe air, & uplifted into the infinite space, I become happy in my universal relations. The name of the nearest friend sounds then foreign & accidental. I am the heir of uncontained beauty and power.
I thought as I rode in the cold pleasant light of Sunday morning how silent & passive nature offers, every morn, her wealth to man; she is immensely rich, he is welcome to her entire goods, which he speaks no word, only leaves over doors ajar, hall, store room, & cellar. He may do as he will: if he takes her hint & uses her goods, she speaks no word; if he blunders & starves, she says nothing.
At the gates of the forest, the surprised man of the world is forced to leave his city estimates of great and small, wise and foolish.
It is very odd that Nature should be so unscrupulous. She is no saint . . .
I fear the popular notion of success stands in direct opposition in all points to the real and wholesome success. One adores public opinion, the other, private opinion; one, fame, the other, desert; one, feats, the other, humility; one, lucre, the other, love; one, monopoly, and the other, hospitality of mind.
Excellence is the new forever.
All great successes are the triumph of persistence.
The soul is not born; it does not die; it was not produced from anyone Unborn, eternal, it is not slain, though the body is slain.
A man makes inferiors his superiors by heat; self-control is the rule.
Among provocatives, the next best thing to good preaching is bad preaching. I have even more thoughts during or enduring it than at other times.
The world looks like a multiplication-table, or a mathematical equation, which, turn it how you will, balances itself.
The field cannot be seen from within the field.
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