Poetry makes its own pertinence, and a single stanza outweighs a book of prose.

Colleges hate geniuses, just as convents hate saints.

Enthusiasm is the height of man; it is the passing from the human to the divine.

How we hate this solemn Ego that accompanies the learned, like a double, wherever he goes.

Meek young men grow up in libraries, believing it their duty to accept the views which Cicero, which Locke, which Bacon, have given, forgetful that Cicero, Locke, and Bacon were only young men in libraries, when they wrote these books.

Every heroic act measures itself by its contempt of some external good. But it finds its own success at last, and then the prudent also extol.

Justice satisfies everybody, and justice alone.