There is an optical illusion about every person we meet.

So in writing, there is always a right word, and every other than that is wrong. There is no beauty in words except in their collocation. The effect of a fanciful word misplaced, is like that of a horn of exquisite polish growing on a human head.

The whole of what we know is a system of compensation. Every defect in one manner is made up in another. Every suffering is rewarded; every sacrifice is made up; every debt is paid.

The office of the scholar is to cheer, to raise, and to guide men by showing them facts amidst appearances.

I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore, With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar.

He then learns that in going down into the secrets of his own mind, he has descended into the secrets of all minds.

Man is a stream whose source is hidden. Our being is descending into us from we know not whence.