A man is reputed to have thought and eloquence; he cannot, for all that, say a word to his cousin or his uncle. They accuse his silence with as much reason as they would blame the insignificance of a dial in the shade. In the sun it will mark the hour. Among those who enjoy his thought, he will regain his tongue.

Infancy conforms to nobody: all conform to it, so that one babe commonly makes four or five out of the adults who prattle and play to it.

Away with this hurrah of masses, and let us have the considerate vote of single men.

Only poetry inspires poetry.

Our statute is a currency which we stamp with our own portrait.

Vigor is contagious, and whatever makes us either think or feel strongly adds to our power and enlarges our field of action.

Genius is its own end.