That love for one, from which there doth not spring Wide love for all, is but a worthless thing.

Through aisles of long-drawn centuries my spirit walks in thought.

The true historical genius, to our thinking, is that which can see the nobler meaning of events that are near him, as the true poet is he who detects the divine in the casual; and we somewhat suspect the depth of his insight into the past who cannot recognize the godlike of to-day under that disguise in which it always visits us.

Heaven is neither here nor there to me. Everywhere and nowhere. Just not in between, But I believe in Heaven.

Some day the soft Ideal that we wooed confronts us fiercely, foe-beset, pursued, and cries reproachful: Was it then my praise, and not myself was loved? Prove now thy truth; I claim of thee the promise of thy youth.

A great part of human suffering has its root in the nature of man, and not in that of his institutions.

If the devil take a less hateful shape to us than to our fathers, he is as busy with us as with them.