When a shadow flits across the landscape of the soul where is the substance?

The oldest, wisest politician grows not more human so, but is merely a gray wharf rat at last.

Books that are books are all that you want, and there are but a half dozen in any thousand.

We are in great haste to construct a magnetic telegraph from Maine to Texas; but Maine and Texas, it may be, have nothing important to communicate.

There has always been the same amount of light in the world. The new and missing stars, the comets and eclipses, do not affect thegeneral illumination, for only our glasses appreciate them.

There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon.

In my short experience of human life, the outward obstacles, if there were any such, have not been living men, but the institutions of the dead.