It is a time when one's spirit is subdued and sad, one knows not why; when the past seems a storm-swept desolation, life a vanity and a burden, and the future but a way to death.

None but the dead are permitted to tell the truth.

I do not see how astronomers can help feeling exquisitely insignificant, for every new page of the Book of the Heavens they open reveals to them more and more that the world we are so proud of is to the universe of careening globes as is one mosquito to the winged and hoofed flocks and herds that darken the air and populate the plains and forests of all the earth. If you killed the mosquito would it be missed? Verily, What is Man, that he should be considered of God?

You can't keep a juvenile moral institution alive on two displays of its sash per year.

I thoroughly believe that any man who's got anything worthwhile to say will be heard if he only says it often enough.

Those who do not read have no advantage over those who cannot read.

How far we travel in life matters far less than those we meet along the way.