Works of the intellect are great only by comparison with each other.

The reverence for the deeds of our ancestors is a treacherous sentiment. Their merit was not to reverence the old, but to honor the present moment; and we falsely make them excuses of the very habit which they hated and defied.

Sleep lingers all our lifetime about our eyes, as night hovers all day in the boughs of the fir-tree.

All is a riddle, and the key to a riddle...is another riddle.

Mankind have such a deep stake in inward illumination, that there is much to be said by the hermit or monk in defence of his life of thought and prayer.

If we live truly, we shall see truly.

Every noble activity makes room for itself.