Every walk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us.

We are double-edged blades, and every time we whet our virtue the return stroke strops our vice.

Should not every apartment in which man dwells be lofty enough to create some obscurity overhead, where flickering shadows may play at evening about the rafters?

A minority is powerless while it conforms to the majority.

Most, it would seem to me, do not care for nature and would sell their share.

I have learned that the swiftest traveller is he that goes afoot.

Have you not budged an inch, then? Such is the daily news. Its facts appear to float in the atmosphere.... We should wash ourselves clean of such news. Of what consequence, though our planet explode, if there is no character involved in the explosion? In health we have not the least curiosity about such events. We do not live for idle amusement. I would not run round a corner to see the world blow up.