A book is like a man - clever and dull, brave and cowardly, beautiful and ugly.

A book is like a man - clever and dull, brave and cowardly, beautiful and ugly.

A boy gets to be a man when a man is needed. Remember this thing. I have known boys forty years old because there was no need for a man.

I know people who are so immersed in road maps that they never see the countryside they pass through, and others who, having traced a route, are held to it as though held by flanged wheels to rails.

The last clear definite function of man — muscles aching to work, minds aching to create beyond the single need — this is man.

Intentions, good or bad, are not enough. There's luck or fate or something else that takes over.

We have not known a single great scientist who could not discourse freely and interestingly with a child. Can it be that haters of clarity have nothing to say, have observed nothing, have no clear picture of even their own fields?