“Blest hour! It was a luxury–to be!”

No man was ever yet a great poet, without being at the same time a profound philosopher.

To be beloved is all I need, And whom I love, I love indeed.

Alas! they had been friends in youth; but whispering tongues can poison truth.

In philosophy equally as in poetry it is the highest and most useful prerogative of genius to produce the strongest impressions of novelty, while it rescues admitted truths from the neglect caused by the very circumstance of their universal admission.

The history of man for the nine months preceding his birth would, probably, be far more interesting and contain events of greater moment than all the three score and ten years that follow it.

To believe and to understand are not diverse things, but the same things in different periods of growth.

Christianity is not a theory or speculation, but a life; not a philosophy of life, but a life and a living process.

Until you understand a writer’s ignorance, presume yourself ignorant of his understanding.

A great mind must be androgynous.

The doing evil to avoid an evil cannot be good.

Silence does not always mark wisdom.

Democracy is the healthful lifeblood which circulates through the veins and arteries, which supports the system, but which ought never to appear externally, and as the mere blood itself.

There is in every human countenance either a history or a prophecy which must sadden, or at least soften every reflecting observer.

Poetry: the best words in the best order.

I never knew a trader in philanthropy who was not wrong in his head or heart somewhere or other.

A bitter and perplexed “What shall I do?” Is worse to man than worse necessity.

It chills my blood to hear the blest Supreme Rudely appealed to on each trifling theme.

Come what may, I have been blest.