We love flattery, even though we are not deceived by it, because it shows that we are of importance enough to be courted.

Man is a shrewd inventor, and is ever taking the hint of a new machine from his own structure, adapting some secret of his own anatomy in iron, wood, and leather, to some required function in the work of the world.

Nature does not cocker us: we are children, not pets: she is not fond: everything is dealt to us without fear or favor, after severe universal laws.

The soul knows no persons.

The only method to possess a buddy is always to be one.

The task ahead of us is never as great as the power behind us.

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