Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members. The virtue in most request is conformity. Self-reliance is its aversion. It loves not realities and creators, but names and customs.

We believe that the defects of so many perverse and so many frivolous people, who make up society, are organic, and society is a hospital of incurables.

There is no good theory of disease which does not at once suggest a cure.

There is no thought in any mind, but it quickly tends to convert itself into power.

Would we codify the laws that should reign in households, and whose daily transgression annoys and mortifies us, and degrades our household life, we must adorn every day with sacrifices. Good manners are made up of petty sacrifices.

Beauty is the moment of transition, as if the form were just ready to flow into other forms.

The simplest words,--we do not know what they mean except when we love and aspire.