A man is a method, a progressive arrangement; a selecting principle, gathering his like to him; wherever he goes.

In the actual world--the painful kingdom of time and place--dwell care, and canker, and fear. With thought, with the ideal, is immortal hilarity, the rose of joy.

Happiness is a perfume you cannot pour on others without getting some on yourself.

In the last analysis, love is only the reflection of a man's own worthiness from other men.

With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall.

Coal lay in ledges under the ground since the Flood, until a laborer with pick and windlass brings it to the surface. We may well call it black diamonds. Every basket is power and civilization. For coal is a portable climate.

For what are they all in their high conceit, When man in the bush with God may meet?