There are no fixtures in nature. The universe is fluid and volatile. Permanence is but a word of degrees.

All the great ages have been ages of belief.

If I quake, what matters it what I quake at? Our proper vice takes form in one or another shape, according to the sex, age, or temperament of the person, and, if we are capable of fear, will readily find terrors.

What would be the use of immortality to a person who cannot use well a half an hour?

The street is full of humiliations to the proud.

Criticism is infested with the cant of materialism, which assumes that manual skill and activity is the first merit of all men, and disparages such as say and do not, overlooking the fact, that some men, namely, poets, are natural sayers, sent into the world to the end of expression, and confounds them with those whose province is action, but who quit to imitate the sayers.

A great licentiousness treads on the heels of a reformation.