“Vain, weak-built isthmus, which dost proudly rise Up between two eternities!”

The liberty of a private man, in being master of his own time and actions, as far as may consist with the laws of God and of his country.

To be a husbandman, is but a retreat from the city; to be a philosopher, from the world; or rather, a retreat from the world, as it is man’s, into the world, as it is God’s.

Acquaintance I would have, but when it depends; not on number, but the choice of friends.

Hope is the most hopeless thing of all.

Come, my best Friends! my Books! and lead me on.

Build yourself a book-nest to forget the world without.

Happy insect! what can be In happiness compared to thee? Fed with nourishment divine, The dewy morning’s gentle wine!

Our yesterday’s to-morrow now is gone, And still a new to-morrow does come on. We by to-morrow draw out all our store, Till the exhausted well can yield no more.

Who lets slip fortune, her shall never find: Occasion once past by, is bald behind.

Solitude can be used well by very few people. They who do must have a knowledge of the world to see the foolishness of it, and enough virtue to despise all the vanity.

Of all ills that one endures, hope is a cheap and universal cure.

Nothing is there to come, and nothing past, But an eternal Now does always last.

Curiosity does, no less than devotion, pilgrims make.

Why dost thou heap up wealth, which thou must quit, Or what is worse, be left by it? Why dost thou load thyself when thou ‘rt to fly, Oh, man! ordain’d to die?

Fill all the Glasses there; for why Should every Creature Drink but I? Why, Man of Morals, tell me why?

All this world’s noise appears to me a dull, ill-acted comedy!

Form is solidified energy, energy is an expression of the mind, the mind is the covered mirror of Eternity, and Eternity is the Truth, which has thrown off the mask of the mind.

Eternity! How know we but we stand On the precipitous and crumbling verge Of Time e’en now, Eternity below?

The grave, where sets the orb of being, sets To rise, ascend, and culminate above Eternity’s horizon evermore.

An eternity of wishing to speak directly to my Creator – I thought in despair – and this is how He finally contacts me? Through AOL Instant Messenger?

The troubles of our proud and angry dust are from eternity, and shall not fail. Bear them we can, and if we can we must. Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.

Art is eternal for it reveals the inner landscape which is the soul of man.

Eternity. It is the sea mingled with the sun.

Life is soul’s nursery- its training place for the destinies of eternity.