To different minds, the same world is a hell, and a heaven.

For the world was built in order around the atoms march in tune; Rhyme the pipe, and Time the warder, The sun obeys them, and the moon.

Whence, then, this worship of the past? The centuries are conspirators against the sanity and authority of the soul.

The great majority of men grow up and grow old in seeming and following.

Our chief want is someone who will inspire us to be what we know we could be.

Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting some on yourself.

Of course, money will do after its kind, and will steadily work to unspiritualize and unchurch the people to whom it was bequeathed.