We are of different opinions at different hours, but we always may be said to be at heart on the side of truth.

I do then with my friends as I do with my books. I would have them where I can find them, but I seldom use them.

Not always can flowers, pearls, poetry, protestations, nor even home in another heart, content the awful soul that dwells in clay.

Evermore in the world is this marvelous balance of beauty and disgust, magnificence and rats.

One idea lights a thousand candles.

A low self-love in the parent desires that his child should repeat his character and fortune.

I have no expectation that any man will read history aright who thinks that what was done in a remote age, by men whose names have resounded far, has any deeper sense than what he is doing today.