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

Think not, is my eleventh commandment; and sleep when you can, is my twelfth.

The eyes are the gateway to the soul.

I could...see in Emerson...that had he lived in those days when the world was made, he might have offered some valuable suggestions.

The poor man wants many things; the covetous man, all.

That hour in the life of a man when first the help of humanity fails him, and he learns that in his obscurity and indigence humanity holds him a dog and no man: that hour is a hard one, but not the hardest. There is still another hour which follows, when he learns that in his infinite comparative minuteness and abjectness, the gods do likewise despise him, and own him not of their clan.

We are off! The courses and topsails are set: the coral-hung anchor swings from the bow: and together, the three royals are given to the breeze, that follows us out to sea like the baying of a hound.