Literary men are . . . a perpetual priesthood.
Failure is in a sense the highway to success, as each discovery of what is false leads us to seek earnestly after what is true.
To stay youthful, stay useful.
Four seasons fill the measure of the year; there are four seasons in the minds of men.
The feel of not to feel it, When there is none to heal it Nor numbed sense to steel it.
O Solitude! If I must with thee dwell, Let it not be among the jumbled heap of murky buildings