The reason why the world lacks unity, and lies broken and in heaps, is, because man is disunited with himself.

There is ever a slight suspicion of the burlesque about earnest good men.

Fate, then, is a name for facts not yet passed under the fire of thought; for causes which are unpenetrated.

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

Every wall is a door.

Imagination is a very high sort of seeing, which does not come by study, but by the intellect being where and what it sees, by sharing the path, or circuits of things through forms, and so making them translucid to others.

Each age, it is found, must write its own books; or rather, each generation for the next succeeding.