How I have walked... day after day, and all alone, to see if there was not something among the old things which was new!

None know how often the hand of God is seen in a wilderness but them that rove it for a man's life.

It was not that the jagged precipices were lofty, that the encircling woods were the dimmest shade, or that the waters were profoundly deep; but that over all, rocks, wood, and water, brooded the spirit of repose, and the silent energy of nature stirred the soul to its inmost depths.

To walk with nature as a poet is the necessary condition of a perfect artist.

If the imagination is shackled, and nothing is described but what we see, seldom will anything truly great be produced either in Painting or Poetry