As a historian, he felt it his duty to respect everything that had ever been respected, except for the occasional statesman.

[P]hilosophy . . .consists chiefly in suggesting unintelligible answers to insoluble problems.

Everyone carries his own inch rule of taste, and amuses himself by applying it, triumphantly, wherever he travels.

The woman who is known only through a man is known wrong.

The new American, like the new European, was the servant of the powerhouse, as the European of the twelfth century was the servant of the Church.

As history stands, it is a sort of Chinese play, without end andl without lesson. With these impressions I wrote the last line of my History, asking for a round century before going further.

Whenever a man reaches the top of the political ladder, his enemies unite to pull him down. His friends become critical and exacting.