In failing circumstances no one can be relied on to keep their integrity.

Cities give not the human senses room enough. We go out daily and nightly to feed the eyes on the horizon, and require so much scope, just as we need water for our bath.

We owe to genius always the same debt, of lifting the curtain from the common, and showing us that divinities are sitting disguised in the seeming gang of gypsies and peddlars.

Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind.

That which we do not believe, we cannot adequately say; even though we may repeat the words ever so often.

The imitator dooms himself to hopeless mediocrity.

All history is biography.