In excited conversation we have glimpses of the universe, hints of power native to the soul, far-darting lights and shadows of an Andes landscape, such as we can hardly attain in lone meditation. Here are oracles sometimes profusely given, to which the memory goes back in barren hours.

Life only avails, not the having lived.

Society acquires new arts, and loses old instincts.

The picture waits for my verdict; it is not to command me, but I am to settle its claim to praise.

To aim to convert a man by miracles is a profanation of the soul.

Music causes us to think eloquently.

In skating over thin ice our safety is in our speed.