The Primary Wisdom Is Intuition.

Words Are Finite Organs Of The Infinite Mind. They Cannot Cover The Dimensions Of What Is In Truth. They Break, Chop, And Impoverish It.

A Man Is But A Little Thing In The Midst Of The Objects Of Nature, Yet, By The Moral Quality Radiating From His Countenance, He May Abolish All Considerations Of Magnitude, And In His Manners Equal The Majesty Of The World.

Everything Runs To Excess; Every Good Quality Is Noxious If Unmixed.

In The Woods We Return To Reason And Faith.

Life Loiters At The Book's First Page,-- Ah! Could We Turn The Leaf.