If the red slayer thinks he slays, / Or if the slain think he is slain, / They know not well the subtle ways / I keep, and pass, and turn again.

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, Of thee, from the hill-top looking down; And the heifer, that lows in the upland farm, Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; The sexton tolling the bell at noon, Dreams not that great Napoleon Sto

Life consists in what a man is thinking of all day.

In the East, fames are won.
In the west, deeds are done.

The fundaments of a person are not in substance, but in spirits.

The religions are obsolete when the reforms do not proceed from them