The worth of a book is a matter of expressed juices.

Truth, like the sun, submits to be obscured; but, like the sun, only for a time.

Genius makes its observations in short-hand; talent writes them out at length.

A sound discretion is not so much indicated by never making a mistake as by never repeating it.

Sensitiveness is closely allied to egotism; and excessive sensibility is only another name for morbid self-consciousness. The cure for tender sensibilities is to make more of our objects and less of our selves.

We fear things in proportion to our ignorance of them.

It may almost be held that the hope of commercial gain has done nearly as much for the cause of truth as even the love of truth.