Many possessions, if they do not make a man better, are at least expected to make his children happier; and this pathetic hope is behind many exertions.

The mediocrity of everything in the great world of today is simply appalling. We live in intellectual slums.

The world is so ordered that we must, in a material sense, lose everything we have and love, one thing after another, until we ourselves close our eyes.

Happiness is impossible, and even inconceivable, to a mind without scope and without pause, a mind driven by craving, pleasure, or fear. To be happy, you must be reasonable, or you must be tamed. You must have taken the measure of your powers, tasted the fruits of your passion, and learned your place in the world and what things in it can really serve you. To be happy, you must be wise.

The Bible is literature, not dogma.

Popular poets are the parish priests of the Muse, retailing her ancient divinations to a long since converted public.

Children are natural mythologists: they beg to be told tales, and love not only to invent but to enact falsehoods.