All history is but the lengthened shadow of a great man.

Truth is too simple for us: we do not like those who unmask our illusions.

If thought makes free, so does the moral sentiment. The mixtures of spiritual chemistry refuse to be analyzed.

Let none presume to measure the irregularities of Michael Angelo or Socrates by village scales.

Who looks upon a river in a meditative hour and is not reminded of the flux of all things?

Manners are the happy ways of doing things; each one a stroke of genius or of love, now repeated and hardened into usage, they form at last a rich varnish, with which the routine of life is washed, and its details adorned. If they are superficial, so are the dew-drops which give such a depth to the morning meadows.

American mind a wilderness of opportunities.