People do not deserve to have good writing, they are so pleased with bad.

Do not tell me of my obligation to put all poor men in good situations. Are they my poor? I tell thee, thou foolish philanthropist, that I grudge the dollar, the dime, the cent, I give to such men as do not belong to me and to whom I do not belong

Logic is the procession or proportionate unfolding of the intuition; but its virtue is as silent method; the moment it would appear as propositions, and have a separate value, it is worthless.

We are not free to use today, or to promise tomorrow, because we are already mortgaged to yesterday.

The simplest words,--we do not know what they mean except when we love and aspire.

What is the imagination? Only an arm or weapon of the interior energy; only the precursor of the reason.

Great country, diminutive minds. America is formless, has no terrible and no beautiful condensation.