In this our talking America, we are ruined by our good nature and listening on all sides. This compliance takes away the power ofbeing greatly useful.

You never know how you look through other people's eyes.

Is all literature eavesdropping, and all art Chinese imitation? our life a custom, and our body borrowed, like a beggar’s dinner, from a hundred charities?

We must set up a strong present tense against all rumors of wrath, past and to come.

We must not inquire too curiously into the absolute value of literature. Enough that it amuses and exercises us. At least it leaves us where we were. It names things, but does not add things.

Give a boy address and accomplishments and you give him the mastery of palaces and fortunes where he goes.

The peace of the man who has forsworn the use of the bullet seems to me not quite peace, but a canting impotence.