Nothing at times is more expressive than silence.

Loquacity with tongue or pen is its own reward -- or, punishment.

You have such strong words at command, that they make the smallest argument seem formidable.

In the man whose childhood has known caresses and kindness, there is always a fiber of memory that can be touched to gentle issues.

Given, a man with moderate intellect, a moral standard not higher than the average, some rhetorical affluence and a great glibness of speech, what is the career in which, without the aid of birth or money, he may most easily attain power and reputation in English society? Where is that Goshen of mediocrity in which a smattering of science and learning will pass for profound instruction, where platitudes will be accepted as wisdom, bigoted narrowness as holy zeal, unctuous egoism as God-given piety?

Do we not all agree to call rapid thought and noble impulse by the name of inspiration?

I don't want the world to give me anything for my books except money enough to save me from the temptation to write only for money.