Year by year, more and more of the world gets disenchanted. Even the icy privacy of the arctic and antarctic circles is invaded. We have played Jack Horner with our earth, till there is never a plum left in it.

A stray hair, by its continued irritation, may give more annoyance than a smart blow.

Idleness induces caprice.

There comes Emerson first, whose rich words, every one, Are like gold nails in temples to hang trophies on.

Freedom is the only law which genius knows.

It is only the intellect that can be thoroughly and hideously wicked. It can forget everything in the attainment of its ends. The heart recoils; in its retired some drops of childhood's dew still linger, defying manhood's fiery noon.

Moral supremacy is the only one that leaves monuments, and not ruins, behind it.