A pure hand needs no glove to cover it.
No man for any considerable period can wear one face to himself and another to the multitude, without finally getting bewildered as to which may be the true.
Happiness in this world, when it comes, comes incidentally. Make it the object of pursuit, and it leads us a wild-goose chase, and is never attained. Follow some other object, and very possibly we may find that we have caught happiness without dreaming of it.
We must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest.
Every individual has a place to fill in the world and is important in some respect whether he chooses to be so or not.
Words - so innocent and powerless as they are, as standing in a dictionary, how potent for good and evil they become in the hands of one who knows how to combine them.
What we call real estate - the solid ground to build a house on - is the broad foundation on which nearly all the guilt of this world rests.
Nobody has any conscience about adding to the improbabilities of a marvelous tale.
We sometimes congratulate ourselves at the moment of waking from a troubled dream; it may be so the moment after death.
Time flies over us, but leaves it shadow behind.
The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.
The only sensible ends of literature are, first, the pleasurable toil of writing; second, the gratification of one's family and friends; and lastly, the solid cash.
Our Creator would never have made such lovely days, and have given us the deep hearts to enjoy them, above and beyond all thought, unless we were meant to be immortal.
The founders of a new colony, whatever Utopia of human virtue and happiness they might originally project, have invariably recognized it among their earliest practical necessities to allot a portion of the virgin soil as a cemetery, and another portion as the site of a prison.
Sunlight is painting.