Boston was a moral and intellectual nursery, always busy applying first principles to trifles.

The human mind is not rich enough to drive many horses abreast and wants one general scheme, under which it strives to bring everything.

The world is a perpetual caricature of itself; at every moment it is the mockery and the contradiction of what it is pretending to be.

Tomes of aesthetic criticism hang on a few moments of real delight and intuition.

Science is nothing but developed perception, interpreted intent, common sense rounded out and minutely articulated.

Nonsense is so good only because common sense is so limited.

The sophisticated concern about art sinks before a spontaneous love of reality, and I thank the photograph for being so transparent a vehicle for things.