Thou art in the end what thou art. Put on wigs with millions of curls, set thy foot upon ell-high rocks. Thou abidest ever--what thou art.

Voluntary dependence is the wonderful form of existence, and how could that be possible without love?

Men's prejudices rest upon their character for the time being and cannot be overcome, as being part and parcel of themselves. Neither evidence nor common sense nor reason has the slightest influence upon them.

Most man only care for science so far as they get a living by it, and that they worship even error when it affords them a subsistence.

We are pantheists as natural scientists, polytheists as poets, and monotheists as moral beings.

To be pleased with one's limits is a wretched state.

Properly speaking, we learn from those books only that we cannot judge. The author of a book that I am competent to criticise would have to learn from me.