The souls of all our brethren are ever hovering about us, craving for a caress, and only waiting for the signal.

The dog is the only living being that has found and recognizes an indubitable, tangible and definite god. He knows to whom above him to give himself. He has not to seek for a superior and infinite power.

He who sees without loving is only straining his eyes in the darkness.

We can never judge a soul above the high water mark of our own.

At every crossroad on the way that leads to the future, each progressive spirit is opposed by a thousand men appointed to guard the past.

There comes no adventure but wears to our soul the shape of our everyday thoughts.

Is not every action of Hamlet induced by a fanatical impulse, which tells him that duty consists in revenge alone? And dose it need superhuman efforts to recognize that revenge never can be duty? I say again that Hamlet thinks much, but that he is by no means wise.