There, where one burns books... one, in the end, burns men.

The devil take these people and their language! They take a dozen monosyllabic words in their jaws, chew them, crunch them and spit them out again, and call that speaking. Fortunately they are by nature fairly silent, and although they gaze at us open-mouthed, they spare us long conversations.

Terrible as is war, it yet displays the spiritual grandeur of man daring to defy his mightiest hereditary enemy--death.

Our souls must become expanded by the contemplation of Nature's grandeur, before we can fully comprehend the greatness of man.

Like a great poet, Nature knows how to produce the greatest effects with the most limited means.

Talking and eloquence are not the same: to speak and to speak well are two things. A fool may talk, but a wise man speaks.

Newness hath an evanescent beauty.