Home -- that blessed word, which opens to the human heart the most per >>
Childhood itself is scarcely more lovely than a cheerful, kindly, suns >>
The cure for all the ills and wrongs, the cares, the sorrows, and the >>
Nature... She pardons no mistakes. Her yea is yea, and her nay, nay. >>
That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's i >>
I look upon all creatures equally; none are less dear to me and none m >>
That man's best works should be such bungling imitations of Nature's infinite perfection, matters not much; but that he should make himself an imitation, this is the fact which Nature moans over, and deprecates beseechingly. Be spontaneous, be truthful, be free, and thus be individuals! is the song she sings through warbling birds, and whispering pines, and roaring waves, and screeching winds.