Is the Master out of his mind?' she asked me. I nodded. 'And he's taking you with him?' I nodded again. 'Where?' she asked. I pointed towards the centre of the earth. 'Into the cellar?' exclaimed the old servant. 'No,' I said, 'farther down than that.

Anything one man can imagine, other men can make real.

[we see that] science is eminently perfectible, and that each theory has constantly to give way to a fresh one.

It is not new continents the earth needs, but new men.

I believe cats to be spirits come to earth. A cat, I am sure, could walk on a cloud without coming through.

Better to put things at the worst at first and reserve the best for a surprise.

Liberty is worth paying for.