There might be a class of beings, human once, but now to humanity invisible, for whose scrutiny, and for whose refined appreciation of the beautiful, more especially than for our own, had been set in order by God the great landscape-garden of the whole earth.

There are chords in the hearts of the most reckless which cannot be touched without emotion.

In efforts to soar above our nature, we invariably fall below it.

To be thoroughly conversant with Man’s heart, is to take our final lesson in the iron-clasped volume of Despair

If any ambitious man have a fancy to revolutionize, at one effort, the universal world of human thought, human opinion, and human sentiment, the opportunity is his own -- the road to immortal renown lies straight, open, and unencumbered before him. All that he has to do is to write and publish a very little book. Its title should be simple -- a few plain words -- My Heart Laid Bare. But -- this little book must be true to its title.

The pioneers and missionaries of religion have been the real cause of more trouble and war than all other classes of mankind.

True, nervous, very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am, but why will say that I am mad?! The disease had haunted my senses, not destroyed, not dulled them. Of all the sense of hearing acute.