Very few of our race can be said to be yet finished men. We still carry sticking to us some remains of the preceding inferior quadruped organization. We call these millions men; but they are not yet men. Half-engaged in the soil, pawing to get free, man needs all the music that can be brought to disengage him.

It sometimes occurs that memory has a personality of its own and volunteers or refuses its information at its will, not at mine.

The foolish man wonders at the unusual, but the wise man at the usual.

But when you have chosen your part, abide by it, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with the world.

Truth is handsomer than the affectation of love. Your goodness must have some edge to it, else it is none.

Life has a way of demanding that you live it.

The only true gifts are a portion of yourself.