A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.
It has come to be practically a sort of rule in literature that a man, having once shown himself capable of original writing, is entitled thenceforth to steal from the writings of others at discretion.
How casually and unobservedly we make all our most valued acquaintances.
Want is a growing giant whom the coat of Have was never large enough to cover.
A friend may well be reckoned the masterpiece of nature.
When I first open my eyes upon the morning meadows and look out upon the beautiful world, I thank God I am alive.