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

Truth is a jewel which should not be painted over; but it may be set to advantage and shown in a good light.

Memory itself is an internal rumour; and when to this hearsay within the mind we add the falsified echoes that reach us from others, we have but a shifting and unseizable basis to build upon. The picture we frame of the past changes continually and grows every day less similar to the original experience which it purports to describe.

Tyrants are seldom free; the cares and the instruments of their tyranny enslave them.

Saints cannot arise where there have been no warriors, nor philosophers where a prying beast does not remain hidden in the depths.

Civilization is perhaps approaching one of those long winters that overtake it from time to time. Romantic Christendom - picturesque, passionate, unhappy episode - may be coming to an end. Such a catastrophe would be no reason for despair.

The arts must study their occasions; they must stand modestly aside until they can slip in fitly into the interstices of life.