There are dull and bright, sacred and profane, coarse and fine egotists. It is a disease that, like influenza, falls on all constitutions. In the distemper known to physicians as chorea, the patient sometimes turns round, and continues to spin slowly in one spot. Is egotism a metaphysical varioloid of this malady?

Old and new make the warp and woof of every moment. There is no thread that is not a twist of these two strands.

Perpetual modernism is the measure of merit in every work of art.

Every man passes his life in the search after friendship.

The life of labor does not make men, but drudges.

Only be admonished by what you already see, not to strike leagues of friendship with cheap persons, where no friendship can be. Our impatience betrays us into rash and foolish alliances which no God attends.

All life is a nap. The more naps you take the better.