Men Are What Their Mothers Made Them.

To The Poet, To The Philosopher, To The Saint, All Things Are Friendly And Sacred, All Events Profitable, All Days Holy, All Men Divine.

All Life Is An Experiment. Place Yourself In The Middle Of The Stream Of Power And Wisdom Which Animates All Whom It Floats, And You Are Without Effort Impelled To Truth, To Right And A Perfect Contentment. I Wish To Write Such Rhymes As Shall Not Suggest A Restraint, But Contrariwise The Wildest Freedom. Immortality. I Notice That As Soon As Writers Broach This Question They Begin To Quote. I Hate Quotation. Tell Me What You Know.

Every Individual Nature Has Its Own Beauty. One Is Struck In Every Company, At Every Fireside, With The Riches Of Nature, When He Hears So Many New Tones, All Musical, Sees In Each Person Original Manners, Which Have A Proper And Peculiar Charm, And Reads New Expressions Of Face. He Perceives That Nature Has Laid For Each The Foundations Of A Divine Building, If The Soul Will Build Thereon.

There Are Eyes, To Be Sure, That Give No More Admission Into The Man Than Blueberries.

Women Have A Less Accurate Measure Of Time Than Men; There Is A Clock In Adam, None In Eve.