Ralph Waldo Emerson

The betrothed and accepted lover has lost the wildest charms of his maiden by her acceptance. She was heaven while he pursued her, but she cannot be heaven if she stoops to one such as he!

Adopt the pace of nature, her secret is patience.

Build a better mousetrap and the world will beat a path to your door.

Is the parent better than the child into whom he has cast his ripened being? Whence, then, this worship of the past?

Few people have any next, they live from hand to mouth without a plan, and are always at the end of their line.

Trust instinct to the end, even though you can give no reason.

It is not he who gains the exact point in dispute who scores most in controversy – but he who has shown the better temper.

To him whom contemplates a trait of natural beauty, no harm nor despair can come. The doctrines of despair, spiritual or political servitude, were never taught by those who shared the serenity of Nature. For each phase of Nature, though not invisible, is yet not too distinct or obtrusive. It is there to be found when we look for it, but not too demanding of our attention.

Poetry is the art of uniting pleasure with truth.

There is much pain that is quite noiseless; and vibrations that make human agonies are often a mere whisper in the roar of hurrying existence. There are glances of hatred that stab and raise no cry of murder; robberies that leave man or woman for ever beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer –committed to no sound except that of low moans in the night, seen in no writing except that made on the face by the slow months of suppressed anguish and early morning tears. Many an inherited sorrow that has marred a life has been breathed into no human ear.

I have not a particle of confidence in a man who has no redeeming vices.

I’m not concerned with your liking or disliking me. All I ask is that you respect me as a human being.

Hurricanes are named after people, baby, and I hope you know that falling in love with me will be so much more treacherous than boarding up the windows and waiting for me to pass.

I have the conviction that excessive literary production is a social offence.

If we don’t occupy ourself with everything, then peaceful mind will have nowhere to abide.

That is the whole secret of successful fighting. Get your enemy at a disadvantage; and never, on any account, fight him on equal terms.

Dreams are the touchstones of our characters.

In all private quarrels the duller nature is triumphant by reason of dullness.

The quieter you become, you more you are able to hear.

People do not deserve to have good writings; they are so pleased with the bad.

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into a friend.