Skepticism is the chastity of the intellect...

Man is not made to understand life, but to live it.

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

There is no greater stupidity or meanness than to take uniformity for an ideal, as if it were not a benefit and a joy to a man, being what he is, to know that many are, have been, and will be better than he.

It is one thing to lack a heart and another to possess eyes and a just imagination.

It is a pleasant surprise to him (the pure mathematician) and an added problem if he finds that the arts can use his calculations, or that the senses can verify them, much as if a composer found that sailors could heave better when singing his songs.

The effort of art is to keep what is interesting in existence, to recreate it in the eternal.