A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines.

So nigh is grandeur to our dust, So near is God to man, When Duty whispers low, 'Thou must,' The youth whispers, 'I can.

A beautiful woman is a practical poet, taming her savage mate, planting tenderness, hope and eloquence in all whom she approaches.

Science does not know its debt to imagination. Goethe did not believe that a great naturalist could exist without this faculty.

Revolutions go not backward.

Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members.

I like to be beholden to the great metropolitan English speech, the sea which receives tributaries from every region under heaven.