“Keep your eyes open to your mercies. The man who forgets to be thankful has fallen asleep in life.”

Mankind was never so happily inspired as when it made a cathedral.

The price we have to pay for money is sometimes liberty.

The cruelest lies are often told in silence.

The correction of silence is what kills; when you know you have transgressed, and your friend says nothing, and avoids your eye.

Yet we make the same impression on Buddhists and vegetarians, for we feed on babies, though not our own.

I never weary of great churches. It is my favorite kind of mountain scenery.

I regard you with an indifference closely bordering on aversion.

Man is a creature who lives not upon bread alone, but primarily by catchwords.

Vanity dies hard; in some obstinate cases it outlives the man.

He who sows hurry reaps indigestion.

If your morals make you dreary, depend on it, they are wrong.

Nothing made by brute force lasts.

Wine is bottled poetry.

It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.

There is an idea abroad among moral people that they should make their neighbors good.

So long as we are loved by others I should say that we are almost indispensable; and no man is useless while he has a friend.