In imitation is a bit suicide.

Let the river roll which way it will, cities will rise on its banks.

If a man knows the law, find out, though he live in a pine shanty, and resort to him. And if a man can pipe or sing, so as to wrap the imprisoned soul in an elysium; or can paint a landscape, and convey into souls and ochres all the enchantments of Spring or Autumn; or can liberate and intoxicate all people who hear him with delicious songs and verses; it is certain that the secret cannot be kept; the first witness tells it to a second, and men go by fives and tens and fifties to his doors.

Everything is beautiful seen from the point of the intellect, or as truth. But all is sour if seen as experience.

The time is coming when all men will see that the gift of God to the soul is not a vaunting, overpowering, excluding sanctity, buta sweet, natural goodness, a goodness like thine and mine, and that so invites thine and mine to be and to grow.

We are amphibious creatures, weaponed for two elements, having two sets of faculties, the particular and the catholic.

I--this thought which is called I--is the mould into which the world is poured like melted wax.