I sing, not arms and the hero, but the philosophic man: he who seeks in contemplation to discover the inner will of the world, ininvention to discover the means of fulfilling that will, and in action to do that will by the so-discovered means.

Must then a Christ perish in torment in every age to save those that have no imagination.

Our prejudices are so deeply rooted that we never think of them as prejudices but call them common sense.

Let wife and child perish, and lay bricks for your last crust, rather than part with an iota of your [copy]rights.

Who is this Baby Ruth? And what does she do?

Cruelty would be delicious if one could only find some sort of cruelty that didn't really hurt.

Even the youngest of us may be wrong sometimes.