We are the prisoners of ideas. They catch us up for moments into their heaven, and so fully engage us, that we take no thought forthe morrow, gaze like children, without an effort to make them our own.

The State is a poor, good beast who means the best: it means friendly.

Courage is temperamental, scientific, ideal.

He that rides his hobby gently must always give way to him that rides his hobby hard.

Words are finite expressions of the infinite mind.

Men over forty are no judges of a book written in a new spirit.

The preamble of thought, the transition through which it passes from the unconscious to the conscious, is action. Only so much do I know, as I have lived. Instantly we know whose words are loaded with life, and whose not.