I am ashamed to see what a shallow village tale our so-called history is.

A cheerful, intelligent face is the end of culture.

Passion rebuilds the world for the youth. It makes all things alive and significant.

The mass of men worry themselves into nameless graves while here and there a great unselfish soul forgets himself into immortality.

No love can be bound by oath or covenant to secure it against a higher love.

The vocabulary of an omniscient man would embrace words and images excluded from polite conversation. What would be base, or even obscene, to the obscene, becomes illustrious, spoken in a new connexion of thought.

In skating over thin ice our safety is in our speed.