The selfish man suffers more from his selfishness than he from whom that selfishness withholds some important benefit.

The youth, intoxicated with his admiration of a hero, fails to see, that it is only a projection of his own soul, which he admires.

What potent blood hath modest May.

The poorest experience is rich enough for all the purposes of expressing thought

[A]s if life were a thunder-storm wherein you can see by a flash the horizon, and then cannot see your hand.

Men have sometimes exchanged names with their friends, as if they would signify that in their friend each loved his own soul.

Society never advances. It recedes as fast on one side as it gains on the other. It undergoes continual changes: it is barbarous, it is civilized, it is rich, it is scientific; but this change is not amelioration. For every thing that is given, something else is taken. Society acquires new arts and loses old instincts.