Nature herself her shape admires; The gods are wounded in her sight; And love forsakes his heavenly fires and at her eyes his brand doth light.

Nature, like us is sometimes caught without her diadem.

Nature is not so much her own ever-sweet interpreter, as the mere supplier of that cunning as he...

Nature is nothing but the inner voice of self-interest.

Nature and Homer were, he found, the same.

Nature is a temple where living pillars Sometimes emit confused words; Man passes through forests of symbols Which observe him with familiar looks...

Nature knows no difference between weeds and flowers.

Nature is commonplace. Imitation is more interesting.

Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth in strange eruptions; oft the teeming earth is with a kind of colic pinched vexed By the imprisoning...

Nature, like man, sometimes weeps from gladness.