There is some awe mixed with the joy of our surprise, when this poet, who lived in some past world, two or three hundred years ago, says that which lies close to my own soul, that which I also had wellnigh thought and said.
It has come to be practically a sort of rule in literature that a man, having once shown himself capable of original writing, is entitled thenceforth to steal from the writings of others at discretion.
How casually and unobservedly we make all our most valued acquaintances.
Want is a growing giant whom the coat of Have was never large enough to cover.
A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.
When I first open my eyes upon the morning meadows and look out upon the beautiful world, I thank God I am alive.