Every woman is the gift of a world to me.

The great pulsation of nature beats too in my breast, and when I carol aloud, I am answered by a thousand-fold echo. I hear a thousand nightingales. Spring hath sent them to awaken Earth from her morning slumber, and Earth trembles with ecstasy, her flowers are hymns, which she sings in inspiration to the sun.

From every Englishman emanates a kind of gas, the deadly choke-damp of boredom.

All special charters of freedom must be abrogated where the universal law of freedom is to flourish.

You cannot feed the hungry on statistics.

I do not know if she was virtuous, but she was ugly, and with a woman that is half the battle.

He is noble who both feels and acts nobly.