I cannot often enough say, that a man is only a relative and representative nature. Each is a hint of the truth, but far enough from being that truth, which yet he quite newly and inevitably suggests to us. If I seek it in him, I shall not find it.

Our globe discovers its bidden virtues, not only in heroes and arch-angels, but in gossips and nurses.

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.

I cannot find language of sufficient energy to convey my sense of the sacredness of private integrity.

This day is all that is good and fair. It is too dear, with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays.

Happy is the house that shelters a friend! It might well be built, like a festal bower or arch, to entertain him a single day. Happier, if he know the solemnity of that relation, and honor its law! He offers himself a candidate for that covenant comes up, like an Olympian, to the great games, where the first- born of the world are the competitors.

Society everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members.