What is a man born for but to be a reformer, a remaker of what has been made, a denouncer of lies, a restorer of truth and good?
Inaction is cowardice, but there can be no scholar without the heroic mind.
Genius, even, as it is the greatest good, is he greatest harm.
The poet knows that he speaks adequately, then, only when he speaks somewhat wildly.
Poetry makes its own pertinence, and a single stanza outweighs a book of prose.
He in whom the love of repose predominates will accept the first creed, the first philosophy, the first political party he meets — most likely his father's. He gets rest, commodity, and reputation; but he shuts the door of truth.