The Soul Answers Never By Words, But

Cities Degrade Us By Magnifying Trifles.

We But Half Express Ourselves, And Are Ashamed Of That Divine Idea Which Each Of Us Represents.

If I Could Put My Hand On The North Star, Would It Be As Beautiful? The Sea Is Lovely, But When We Bathe In It The Beauty Forsakesall The Near Water. For The Imagination And Senses Cannot Be Gratified At The Same Time.

Prayer As A Means To Effect A Private End Is Theft And Meanness.

In The Hands Of The Discoverer, Medicine Becomes A Heroic Art . . Wherever Life Is Dear He Is A Demigod.