Where are we really going? Always home.
The ideal of morality has no more dangerous rival than the ideal of highest strength, of most powerful life. It is the maximum of the savage.
Prayer is to religion what thinking is to philosophy. To pray is to make religion.
Where children are, there is the golden age.
The true Poet is all-knowing; he is an actual world in miniature.
Friendship, love, and piety ought to be handled with a sort of mysterious secrecy; they ought to be spoken of only in the rare moments of perfect confidence, to be mutually understood in silence. Many things are too delicate to be thought; many more, to be spoken.