It is good even to be a fisherman in summer and in winter.

We are all of us Apollos serving some Admetus.

Who hears the fishes when they cry?

As the truest society approaches always nearer to solitude, so the most excellent speech finally falls into Silence. Silence is audible to all men, at all times, and in all places. She is when we hear inwardly, sound when we hear outwardly. Creation has not displaced her, but is her visible framework and foil. All sounds are her servants, and purveyors, proclaiming not only that their mistress is, but is a rare mistress, and earnestly to be sought after.

Yet some can be patriotic who have no self-respect, and sacrifice the greater to the less. They love the soil which makes their graves, but have no sympathy with the spirit which may still animate their clay. Patriotism is a maggot in their heads.

There are nine hundred and ninety-nine patrons of virtue to one virtuous man.

The condition-of-England question is a practical one. The condition of England demands a hero, not a poet.