A bullet had found him, his blood ran out as he cried. No money could save him, so he laid down and died. Ooh, what a lucky man he was.

Life is not intellectual or critical, but sturdy. Its chief good is for well-mixed people who can enjoy what they find, without question.

I do not hesitate to read. all good books in translations. What is really best in any book is translatable-any real insight or broad human sentiment.

Mysticism is the mistake of an accidental and individual symbol for an universal one.

Nature suffers nothing to remain in her kingdom which cannot help itself.

We do what we must, and call it by the best names we can, and would fain have the praise of having intended the result which ensues.

Two may talk and one may hear, but three cannot take part in a conversation of the most sincere and searching sort.