A system-grinder hates the truth.

What is the city in which we sit here, but an aggregate of incongruous materials, which have obeyed the will of some man?

The world still wants its poet-priest, a reconciler, who shall not trifle with Shakspeare the player, nor shall grope in graves with Swedenborg the mourner; but who shall see, speak, and act, with equal inspiration. For knowledge will brighten the sunshine; right is more beautiful than private affection; and love is compatible with universal wisdom.

The ship of heaven guides itself and will not accept a wooden rudder.

If you believe in fate, believe in it, at least, for your good.

Thought is the blossom; language the bud; action the fruit behind it.

No love can be bound by oath or covenant to secure it against a higher love.