There are natures in which, if they love us, we are conscious of having a sort of baptism and consecration.

Mysterious haunts of echoes old and far, The voice divine of human loyalty.

It is necessary to me, not simply to be but to utter, and I require utterance of my friends.

The dull mind, once arriving at an inference that flatters the desire, is rarely able to retain the impression that the notion from which the inference started was purely problematic.

A prig is a fellow who is always making you a present of his opinions.

Ignorance ... is a painless evil; so, I should think, is dirt, considering the merry faces that go along with it.

After all, the true seeing is within.