Thrashing is not the most noticeably awful of disappointments. Not to have attempted is the genuine disappointment.

If the aristocracy of the whole white race is so to melt in a world of the colored races of the Earth, I for one should only rejoice in such a divine triumph of the sacrificial idea in history; for it would mean the humanization of mankind.

Seasonal changes, as it were, take place in history, when there is practically an almost universal death, a falling of the foliage of the tree of life. Such were the intervals between the ancient and mediaeval time, the mediaeval and the modern.

I seldom deal in symbolisms; if there be hidden meanings in my verse, they are there without my knowledge.

Is there not an art, a music, and a stream of words that shalt be life, the acknowledged voice of life?

To feel that one has a place in life solves half the problem of contentment.

Genius is that in which the soul of a race bums at its brightest, revealing and preserving its vision; works of art are great and significant in proportion to the clarity and fulness with which they incarnate this vision.