The sky is the daily bread of the eyes.
The greatest delight the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable. I am not alone and unacknowledged. They nod to me and I to them.
Let the stoics say what they please, we do not eat for the good of living, but because the meat is savory and the appetite is keen.
Good manners are made up of petty sacrifices.
For poetry was all written before time was, and whenever we are so finely organized that we can penetrate into that region where the air is music, we hear those primal warblings, and attempt to write them down, but we lose ever and anon a word, a verse, and substitute something of our own, and thus miswrite the poem.
Beware when the great God lets loose a thinker on this planet.
Our statute is a currency which we stamp with our own portrait.
Love is the bright foreigner, the foreign self.
No love can be bound by oath or covenant to secure it against a higher love.
The lover is made happier by his love than the object of his affection.
We are not free to use today, or to promise tomorrow, because we are already mortgaged to yesterday.
God will have life to be real; we will be damned, but it shall be theatrical.
We all wish to be of importance in one way or another. The child coughs with might and main, since it has no other claim on the company.
It is doubtless a vice to turn one's eyes inward too much, but I am my own comedy and tragedy.
War educates the senses, calls into action the will, perfects the physical constitution, brings men into such swift and close collision in critical moments that man measures man.
War, to sane men at the present day, begins to look like an epidemic insanity, breaking out here and there like the cholera or influenza, infecting men's brains instead of their bowels.
What is there of the divine in a load of brick? What ... in a barber shop? ... Much. All.
The life of labor does not make men, but drudges.
A poem, a sentence, causes us to see ourselves. I be, and I see my being, at the same time.
In youth, we clothe ourselves with rainbows, and go as brave as the zodiac.
Between cultivated minds the first interview is the best.
Europe extends to the Alleghenies; America lies beyond.
A man cannot speak but he judges himself. With his will or against his will he draws his portrait to the eye of his companions by every word. Every opinion reacts on him who utters it. It is a threadball thrown at a mark, but the other end remains on the thrower
Words are finite organs of the infinite mind. They cannot cover the dimensions of what is in truth. They break, chop, and impoverish it.
As much wisdom may be expended on a private economy as on an empire, and as much wisdom may be drawn from it.
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