Let us only hate hatred; and once give love a play, we will fall in love with a unicorn.

Is he mad? Anyway there's something on his mind, as sure as there must be something on a deck when it cracks.

All Profound things, and emotions of things are preceded and attended by Silence... Silence is the general consecration of the universe. Silence is the invisible laying on of the Divine Pontiff's hands upon the world. Silence is at once the most harmless and the most awful thing in all nature. It speaks of the Reserved Forces of Fate. Silence is the only Voice of our God.

It is the horrible texture of a fabric that should be woven of ships' cables and hawsers. A Polar wind blows through it, and birds of prey hover over it.

Students of history are horror-struck at the massacres of old; but in the shambles, men are being murdered to-day.

The further our civilization advances upon its present lines so much the cheaper sort of thing does "fame" become, especially of the literary sort. This species of "fame" a waggish acquaintance says can be manufactured to order, and sometimes is so manufactured.

Whenever we discover a dislike in us, toward any one, we should ever be a little suspicious of ourselves.