Men become superstitious, not because they have too much imagination, but because they are not aware that they have any.

It is war that wastes a nations wealth, chokes its industries, kills its flower, narrows its sympathies, condemns it to be governed by adventurers, and leaves the puny, deformed, and unmanly to breed the next generation.

To understand oneself is the classic form of consolation; to elude oneself is the romantic.

Familiarity breeds contempt only when it breeds inattention.

Friends need not agree in everything or go always together, or have no comparable other friendships of the same intimacy.

Injustice in this world is not something comparative; the wrong is deep, clear, and absolute in each private fate.

Religions are the great fairy tales of conscience.