What better comfort have we, or what other Profit in living Than to feed, sobered by the truth of Nature, Awhile upon her beauty, And hand her torch of gladness to the ages Following after?

Faith in the supernatural is a desperate wager made by man at the lowest ebb of his fortunes.

One of the peculiarities of recent speculation, especially in America, is that ideas are abandoned in virtue of a mere change of feeling, without any new evidence or new arguments. We do not nowadays refute our predecessors, we pleasantly bid them good-bye.

Parents lend children their experience and a vicarious memory; children endow their parents with a vicarious immortality.

To turn events into ideas is the function of literature.

To delight in war is a merit in the soldier, a dangerous quality in the captain, and a positive crime in the statesman.

If pain could have cured us we should long ago have been saved.