The moment our discourse rises above the ground-line of familiar facts, and is inflamed with passion or exalted thought, it clothes itself in images. A man conversing in earnest, if he watch his intellectual processes, will find that always a material image, more or less luminous, arises in his mind, contemporaneous with every thought, which furnishes the vestment of the thought.... This imagery is spontaneous. It is the blending of experience with the present action of the mind. It is proper creation.

Finish each day before you begin the next, and interpose a solid wall of sleep between the two. This you cannot do without temperance.

As every man is hunted by his own daemon, vexed by his own disease, this checks all his activity.

Neither you nor the world knows what you can do until you have tried.

Those who listened to Lord Chatham felt that there was something finer in the man, than anything which he said.

But whoso is heroic will always find crises to try his edge.

Whence, then, this worship of the past? The centuries are conspirators against the sanity and authority of the soul.