The worst deluded are the self-deluded.

The Breath becomes a stone; the stone, a plant; the plant, an animal; the animal, a man; the man, a spirit; and the spirit, a god.

Earnestness is the devotion of all the faculties.

We make way for the man who boldly pushes past us.

Weakness ineffectually seeks to disguise itself,--like a drunken man trying to show how sober he is.

The cure for tender sensibilities is to make more of our objects and less of our selves.

How like a railway tunnel is the poor man's life, with the light of childhood at one end, the intermediate gloom, and only the glimmer of a future life at the other extremity!