Only the traveling is good which reveals to me the value of home and enables me to enjoy it better.

I am not afraid that I shall exaggerate the value and significance of life, but that I shall not be up to the occasion which it is.

Insane!... Ask the tyrant who is his most dangerous foe, the sane man or the insane?

City life is millions of people being lonesome together.

Men profess to be lovers of music, but for the most part they give no evidence in their opinions and lives that they have heard it.

Compared with this simple, fibrous life, our civilized history appears the chronicle of debility, of fashion, and the arts of luxury. But the civilized man misses no real refinement in the poetry of the rudest era. It reminds him that civilization does but dress men. It makes shoes, but it does not toughen the soles of the feet. It makes cloth of finer texture, but it does not touch the skin. Inside the civilized man stands the savage still in the place of honor. We are those blue-eyed, yellow-haired Saxons, those slender, dark-haired Normans.

He who parades his virtues seldom leads the parade. He who puts up with insult invites injury. Health requires this relaxation, this aimless life. This life in the present.