Till your spirit filleth the whole world, and the stars are your
jewels;.... till you love men so as to desire their happiness, with
a thirst equal to the zeal of your own: till you delight in God for
being good to all: you never enjoy the world.... The world is a
mirror of infinite beauty, yet no man sees it. It is a Temple of
Majesty, yet no man regards it. It is a region of Light and Peace,
did not men disquiet it. It is the Paradise of God.... It is, the
place of Angels and the Gate of Heaven.[31]

He is for ever reiterating, in company with all the mystics, that

'Tis not the object, but the light
That maketh Heaven: 'tis a purer sight.

He shares Wordsworth's rapture in the life of nature, and Browning's
interest in his fellow-men; he has Shelley's belief in the inner meaning
of love, and much of Keats's worship of beauty, and he expresses this in
an original and lyrical prose of quite peculiar and haunting beauty. He
has embodied his main ideas, with a good deal of repetition both in
prose and verse, but it is invariably the prose version, probably
written first, which is the most arresting and vigorous.

His _Meditations_ well repay careful study; they are full of wisdom and
of an imaginative philosophy, expressed in pithy and telling form, which
continually reminds the reader of Blake's _Proverbs of Hell_.

To have no principles or to live beside them, is equally miserable.
Philosophers are not those that speak but do great things.
All men see the same objects, but do not equally understand them.
Souls to souls are like apples, one being rotten rots another.