In our own hearts, we mold the whole world's hereafters; and in our own hearts we fashion our own gods.

Where is there such an one who has not a thousand times been struck with a sort of infidel idea, that whatever other worlds God may be Lord of, he is not the Lord of this; for else this world would seem to give the lie to Him; so utterly repugnant seem its ways to the instinctively known ways of Heaven.

The sailor is frankness, the landsman is finesse. Life is not a game with the sailor, demanding the long head--no intricate game of chess where few moves are made in straight-forwardness and ends are attained by indirection, an oblique, tedious, barren game hardly worth that poor candle burnt out in playing it.

Thinking is, or ought to be, a coolness and a calmness; and our poor hearts throb, and our poor brains beat too much for that.

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

There's something ever egotistical in mountain-tops and towers, and all other grand and lofty things.

Madman! Look through my eyes if thou hast none of thine own.