People here are quite struck aback at Sunday's news of the capture of New Orleans. It took them three days to make up their minds to believe it. The division of American had become an idea so fixed that they had about shut out all the avenues to the reception of any other.

History is only a catalogue of the forgotten.

The habit of expression leads to the search for something to express. Something remains as a residuum of the commonplace itself, if one strikes out every commonplace in the expression.

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.

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

One friend in a life-time is much; two are many; three are hardly possible. Friendship needs a certain parallelism of life, a community of thought, a rivalry of aim.

Intimates are predestined.