A few strong instincts and a few plain rules.

Reasoning at every step he treads, Man yet mistakes his way, Whilst meaner things, whom instinct leads, Are rarely known to stray.

Instinct is a great matter. I was now a coward on instinct.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting. Not in entire forgetfulness, and not in utter nakedness, but trailing clouds of glory do we come.

The cattle are grazing,Their heads never raising;There are forty feeding like one!

Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.