To most people, I fancy, the stars are beautiful; but if you asked why, they would be at a loss to reply, until they remembered what they had heard about astronomy, and the great size and distance and possible habitation of those orbs. ... [We] persuade ourselves that the power of the starry heavens lies in the suggestion of astronomical facts.

Memory... is an internal rumor.

The Fates, like an absent-minded printer, seldom allow a single line to stand perfect and unmarred.

The existence of any evil anywhere at any time absolutely ruins a total optimism.

The profoundest affinities are those most readily felt, and though a thousand later considerations may overlay and override them, they remain a background and standard for all happiness. If we trace them out we succeed.

In each person I catch the fleeting suggestion of something beautiful and swear eternal friendship with that.

Religions are the great fairy tales of conscience.