Skepticism? Yes, but a saint is a skeptic once in twenty-four hours.

And what is Genius but finer love, a love impersonal, a love of the flower and perfection of things, and a desire to draw a new picture or copy of the same? It looks to the cause and life: it proceeds from within outward, whilst Talent goes from without inward.

In different hours, a man represents each of several of his ancestors, as if there were seven or eight of us rolled up in each man's skin, - seven or eight ancestors at least, and they constitute the variety of notes for that new piece of music which his life is.

Fame is proof that the people are gullible.

A gentleman makes no noise; a lady is serene.

There are books... which rank in our life with parents and lovers and passionate experiences.

For every seeing soul, there are two absorbing facts - I, and the abyss.