For life is but a dream whose shapes return, some frequently, some seldom, some by night and some by day.

I know no subject more elevating, more amazing, more ready to the poetical enthusiasm, the philosophical reflection, and the moral sentiment than the works of nature. Where can we meet such variety, such beauty, such magnificence?

Rule, Britannia, rule the waves; Britons never will be slaves.

‘Tis easier for the generous to forgive, than for offence to ask it.

Statues and pictures and verse may be grand, But they are not the Life for which they stand.

Ingratitude is treason to mankind.

More firm and sure the hand of courage strikes, when it obeys the watchful eye of caution.

But who can paint like Nature? Can imagination boast, amid its gay creation, hues like hers?

I think a bishop who doesn’t give offence to anyone is probably not a good bishop.

For life is but a dream whose shapes return, some frequently, some seldom, some by night and some by day.

The world rolls round forever like a mill; it grinds out death and life and good and ill; it has no purpose, heart or mind or will.

That which makes people dissatisfied with their condition, is the chimerical idea they form of the happiness of others.

Peace is the happy natural state of man; war is corruption and disgrace.

Health is the vital principle of bliss, and exercise, of health.