Poetry is in itself strength and joy, whether it be crowned by all mankind, or left alone in its own magic hermitage.

Emotion turning back on itself, and not leading on to thought or action, is the element of madness.

Pain has its own noble joy, when it starts a strong consciousness of life, from a stagnant one.

Language. By this we build pyramids, fight battles, ordain and administer laws, shape and teach religion, and knit man to man, cultivate each other, and ourselves.

Speech is as a pump, by which we raise and pour out the water from the great lake of Thought,--whither it flows back again.

The ideal client is the very wealthy man in very great trouble.

Faith in a better than that which appears is no less required by art than by religion.