Truth is the summit of being; justice is the application of it to affairs.
Whatever limits us we call fate.
Nature is made to conspire with spirit to emancipate us.
Religion is to do right. It is to love, it is to serve, it is to think, it is to be humble.
What is it men love in Genius, but its infinite hope, which degrades all it has done? Genius counts all its miracles poor and short. Its own idea it never executed.
Dreams have a poetic integrity and truth. This limbo and dust-hole of thought is presided over by a certain reason, too.