The rich mind lies in the sun and sleeps, and is Nature.

The masters painted for joy, and knew not that virtue had gone out of them. They could not paint the like in cold blood. The masters of English lyric wrote their songs so. It was a fine efflorescence of fine powers.

Are you not scared by seeing that the gypsies are more attractive to us than the apostles?

Poetry being ... when we look from the center outward.

Each man is a hero and an oracle to somebody.

The language of the street is always strong.

It is the duty of men to judge men only by their actions. Our faculties furnish us with no means of arriving at the motive, the character, the secret self. We call the tree good from its fruits, and the man, from his works.