I have heard that death takes us away from ill things, not from good. I have heard that when we pronounce the name of man we pronounce the belief of immortality.

There is no den in the wide world to hide a rogue.

A man is not to aim at innocence, any more than he is to aim at hair, but he is to keep it.

Dreams and beasts are two keys by which we find out the keys of our own nature.

He is rich who owns the day, and no one owns the day who allows it to be invaded with fret and anxiety.

Men are what their mothers made them. You may as well ask a loom which weaves huckabuck why it does not make cashmere as to expect poetry from this engineer or a chemical discovery from that jobber.

The mass of men worry themselves into nameless graves while here and there a great unselfish soul forgets himself into immortality.