Memory and hope constantly incite us to the extensions of the self which play so large a part in our daily life.

The lonely wanderer, who watches by the seashore the waves that roll between him and his home, talks of cruel facts, material barriers that, just because they are material, and not ideal, shall be the irresistible foes of his longing heart.

Life involves passions, faiths, doubts, and courage.

For the Absolute, as we now know, all life is individual, but is individual as expressing a meaning.

I teach at Harvard that the world and the heavens, and the stars are all real, but not so damned real, you see.

A crowd, whether it be a dangerous mob, or an amiably joyous gathering at a picnic is not a community. It has a mind, but no institutions, no organizations, no coherent unity, no history, no traditions.

Memory and hope constantly incite us to the extensions of the self which play so large a part in our daily life.