Every man is an omnibus in which his ancestors ride.

Research and writing are lonely occupations. It is easy to become discouraged in solitary confinement.

Every now and then a man's mind is stretched by a new idea or sensation, and never shrinks back to its former dimensions.

The very minute a thought is threatened with publicity it seems to shrink towards mediocrity.

There is one gratification an old author can afford a certain class of critics; that namely, of comparing him as he is with what he was. It is a pleasure to mediocrity to have its superiors brought within range.

The worst of a modern stylish mansion is that it has no place for ghosts.

Liberty is often a heavy burden on a man. It involves the necessity for perpetual choice which is the kind of labor men have always dreaded.