It is not my words that I polish, but my ideas.
I do not call reason that brutal reason which crushes with its weight what is holy and sacred, that malignant reason which delights in the errors it succeeds in discovering, that unfeeling and scornful reason which insults credulity.
Our ideals, like pictures, are made from lights and shadows.
Ask the young. They know everything.
Credulity forges more miracles than trickery could invent.
Who ever has no fixed opinions has no constant feelings.