What potent blood hath modest May.
Heaven always bears some proportion to earth. The god of the cannibal will be a cannibal, of the crusades a crusader, and of the merchants a merchant.
If I should go out of church whenever I hear a false sentiment, I could never stay there five minutes.
Nothing is quite beautiful alone; nothing but is beautiful in the whole. A single object is only so far beautiful as it suggests this universal grace.
Go put your creed into your deed, Nor speak with double tongue.
I find that the Americans have no passions, they have appetites.
Nations have lost their old omnipotence; the patriotic tiedoes not hold. Nations are getting obsolete, we go and live where we will.
The moment we indulge our affections, the earth is metamorphosed.
The only thing grief has taught me is to know how shallow it is.
All great natures delight in stability; all great men find eternity affirmed in the very promise of their faculties.
There are two classes of poets - the poets by education and practice, these we respect; and poets by nature, these we love.
If speculation tends thus to a terrific unity, in which all things are absorbed, action tends directly back to diversity. The first is the course or gravitation of mind; the second is the power of nature. Nature is manifold. The unity absorbs, and melts or reduces. Nature opens and creates. These two principles reappear and interpenetrate all things, all thought; the one, the many.
Democracy is morose, and runs to anarchy.
Most of the great results of history are brought about by discreditable means.
It is long ere we discover how rich we are. Our history, we are sure, is quite tame: we have nothing to write, nothing to infer. But our wiser years still run back to the despised recollections of childhood. . . .
Every man is eloquent once in his life.
The influence of fine scenery, the presence of mountains, appeases our irritations and elevates our friendships.
There is no prosperity, trade, art, city, or great material wealth of any kind, but if you trace it home, you will find it rooted in a thought of some individual man.
The House ...She lays her beams in music, In music everyone, To the cadence of the whirling world Which dances around the sun- That so they shall not be displaced By lapses or by wars, But for the love of happy souls Outlive the newest stars.
A home kept to the end of display is impossible to all but a few women, and their success is dearly bought.
The masses have no habit of self-reliance or original action.
It the proof of high culture to say the greatest matters in the simplest way.
Immitation is suicide.
We walk alone in the world.
The experience of each new age requires a new confession, and the world seems always waiting for its poet
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