Some men love only to talk where they are masters. They like to go to school-girls, or to boys, or into the shops where the sauntering people gladly lend an ear.

Dream delivers us to dream, and there is no end to illusion. Life is like a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue. . . .

The two parties which divide the state, the party of Conservation and that of Innovation, are very old, and have disputed the possession of the world ever since it was made.

For what avail the plough or sail, or land or life, if freedom fail?

Every burned book or house enlightens the world; every suppressed or expunged word reverberates through the earth from side to side.

There is nothing we value and hunt and cultivate and strive to draw to us, but in some hour we turn and rend it.

All diseases run into one, old age.