A cheerful intelligent face is the end of culture, and success enough. For it indicates the purpose of Nature and wisdom attained.

Science is nothing but the finding of analogy, identity, in the most remote parts.

In the great books of India, an empire spoke to us, nothing small or unworthy, but large, serene, consistent, the voice of an old intelligence, which in another age and climate had pondered and thus disposed of the questions that exercise us.

The wise man, the true friend, the finished character, we seek everywhere, and only find in fragments.

The crowning fortune of a man is to be born to some pursuit which finds him employment and happiness, whether it be to make baskets, or broadswords, or canals, or statues, or songs.

No book was ever written down by any but itself.

All science is transcendental or else passes away.