Labor is the curse of the world, and nobody can meddle with it without becoming proportionately brutalized.

Labor is the curse of the world, and nobody can meddle with it without becoming proportionately brutalized.

There can be...no power...to disclose...the secrets that may be buried with a human heart. The heart, making itself guilty of such secrets, must perforce hold them until the day when all hidden things be revealed.

Men of cold passions have quick eyes.

It contributes greatly towards a man's moral and intellectual health, to be brought into habits of companionship with individuals unlike himself, who care little for his pursuits, and whose sphere and abilities he must go out of himself to appreciate.

Is it a fact-or have I dreamt it-that, by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time?

It is to the credit of human nature that, except where its selfishness is brought into play, it loves more readily than it hates.