We are imprisoned in life in the company of persons powerfully unlike us.

There is a capacity of virtue in us, and there is a capacity of vice to make your blood creep.

There is no strong performance without a little fanaticism in the performer.

The key to every man is his thought.

The consciousness in each man is a sliding scale, which identifies him now with the First Cause, and now with the flesh of his body; life above life, in infinite degrees.

Society is infested by persons who, seeing that the sentiments please, counterfeit the expression of them. These we call sentimentalists - talkers who mistake the description for the thing, saying for having.

Ever the words of the gods resound; But the porches of man's ear seldom in this low life's round are unsealed, that he may hear.