“Mountains are earth’s undecaying monuments.”

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.

Echo is the voice of a reflection in a mirror.

Death should take me while I am in the mood.

Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.

Wherever there is a heart and an intellect, the diseases of the physical frame are tinged with the peculiarities of these.

If the truth were to be known, everyone would be wearing a scarlet letter of one form or another.

The book, if you would see anything in it, requires to be read in the clear, brown, twilight atmosphere in which it was written; if opened in the sunshine, it is apt to look exceedingly like a volume of blank pages.

Articulate words are a harsh clamor and dissonance. When man arrives at his highest perfection, he will again be dumb.

A man’s bewilderment is the measure of his wisdom.

Love, whether newly born, or aroused from a deathlike slumber, must always create sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance, this it overflows upon the outward world.

The calmer thought is not always the right thought, just as the distant view is not always the truest view.

We must not always talk in the market-place of what happens to us in the forest.

A bodily disease which we look upon as whole and entire within itself, may after all, be but a symptom of some ailment in the spiritual part.

Moonlight is sculpture.

I find nothing so singular to life as that everything appears to lose its substance the instant one actually grapples with it.

There is great incongruity in this idea of monuments, since those to whom they are usually dedicated need no such recognition to embalm their memory; and any man who does, is not worthy of one.

The earth doesn’t need to go to meet the sky. True love is the one that doesn’t get a destination.

She spills the oceans of words and feelings on the pages of earth, transforming it into the green blooming planet.

Rain is the warm softness of a mother’s hand as she soothingly dabs that nasty smelling ointment on that bruised kneecap of yours, her delicate features creased with worry.

God put me on this Earth to accomplish a certain number of things. Right now I’m so far behind that I’ll never die

From all the flowers on the earth, she preferred to be a cactus-to bloom for the one, to push away the rest.

Is it possible for a man to move the earth? Yes; but he must first find out another earth to stand upon.

The earth together with its surrounding waters must in fact have such a shape as its shadow reveals, for its eclipses the moon with the arc of a perfect circle.

We have not come here to beg world leaders to care. You have ignored us in the past and you will ignore us again. You’ve run out of excuses and we’re running out of time. We’ve come here to let you know that change is coming whether you like it or not.