Many times the reading of a book has made the future of a man.

What if you do fail, and get fairly rolled in the dirt once or twice. Up again, you shall never be so afraid of a tumble.

He that writes to himself writes to an eternal public.

Thus grows up fashion, an equivocal semblance, the most puissant, the most fantastic and frivolous, the most feared and followed, and which morals and violence assault in vain.

Why needs a man be rich? Why must he have horses, fine garments, handsome apartments, access to public houses, and places of amusement? Only for want of thought.

Action is the process whereby what is not fully formed passes into expressive consciousness.

Whence, then, this worship of the past? The centuries are conspirators against the sanity and authority of the soul.