So complex is the human spirit that it can itself scarce discern the deep springs which impel it to action.

A man should keep his little brain attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it.

Art in the blood is liable to take the strangest forms.

So all life is a great chain, the nature of which is known whenever we are shown a link of it.

It is more than possible; it is probable.

We surely know by some nameless instinct more about our futures than we think we know.

We had got as far as this, when who should walk in but the gentleman himself, who had been drinking his beer in the taproom and had heard the whole conversation. Who was I? What did I want? What did I mean by asking questions? He had a fine flow of language, and his adjectives were very vigorous.