Any writer overwhelmingly honest about pleasing himself is almost sure to please others.
It is human nature to stand in the middle of a thing.
The cynics in life are the people who are always trying to do things for people who don't want things done for them.
The hands are the heart's messengers.
The passion for setting people right is in itself an afflictive disease.
The prey of fear, he, always curtailed, extinguished, thwarted by the dusk, work partly done, says to the alternating blaze, "Again the sun! anew each day; and new and new and new, that comes into and steadies my soul."