I don't feel sure about doing good in any way now; everything seems like going on a mission to a people whose language I don't know.

I tell you there isn't a thing under the sun that needs to be done at all, but what a man can do better than a woman, unless it's bearing children, and they do that in a poor make-shift way; it had better ha been left to the men.

There is no sorrow I have thought more about than that-to love what is great, and try to reach it, and yet to fail.

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

Iteration, like friction, is likely to generate heat instead of progress.

The world is full of hopeful analogies and handsome, dubious eggs, called possibilities.

Fatally powerful as religious systems have been, human nature is stronger and wider, and though dogmas may hamper they cannot absolutely repress its growth.