If we were always, indeed, getting our living, and regulating our lives according to the last and best mode we had learned, we should never be troubled with ennui.

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

I have an immense appetite for solitude, like an infant for sleep, and if I don't get enough for this year, I shall cry all the next.

Where there is a lull of truth, an institution springs up. But the truth blows right on over it, nevertheless, and at length blows it down.

You cannot hear music and noise at the same time.

Color, which is the poet's wealth, is so expensive that most take to mere outline sketches and become men of science.

To a small man every greater is an exaggeration.