The roses under my window make no reference to former roses or better ones; they are what they are; they exist with God today. There is no time to them. There is simply the rose; it is perfect in every moment of its existence.

As soon as the man is at one with God, he will not beg. He will then see prayer in all action.

But genius looks forward: the eyes of men are set in his forehead, not in his hindhead: man hopes: genius creates.

Men of extraordinary success, in their honest moments, have always sung, "Not unto us, not unto us." According to the faith of their times, they have built altars to Fortune, or to Destiny, or to St. Julian. Their success lay in their parallelism to the course of thought, which found in them an unobstructed channel; and the wonders of which they were the visible conductors seemed to their eye their deed.

No man can help another without helping himself.

Spoons and skimmers you can be undistinguishably together; but vases and statues require each a pedestal for itself.

Overhead the sanctities of the stars shine forever-more... pouring satire on the pompous business of the day which they close, and making the generations of men show slight and evanescent.