Look out into the July night, and see the broad belt of silver flame which flashes up the half of heaven, fresh and delicate as the bonfires of the meadow-flies. Yet the powers of numbers cannot compute its enormous age,—lasting as space and time,—embosomed in time and space.

Be lord of a day, through wisdom and justice, and you can put up your history books.

Whatever games are played with us, we must play no games with ourselves, but deal in our privacy with the last honesty and truth.

So all that is said of the wise man by Stoic or Oriental or modern essayist, describes to each reader his own idea, describes his unattained but attainable self.

Prayer that craves a particular commodity, anything less than all good, is vicious.

Aristotle and Plato are reckoned the respective heads of two schools. A wise man will see that Aristotle platonizes.

Man is physical as well as metaphysical, a thing of shreds and patches, borrowed unequally from good and bad ancestors, and a misfit from the start.