Speech is great, but silence is greater.

Neither had Watt of the Steam engine a heroic origin, any kindred with the princes of this world. The princes of this world were shooting their partridges... While this man with blackened fingers, with grim brow, was searching out, in his workshop, the Fire-secret.

Considering the multitude of mortals that handle the pen in these days, and can mostly spell, and write without glaring violations of grammar, the question naturally arises: How is it, then, that no work proceeds from them, bearing any stamp of authenticity and permanence; of worth for more than one day?

There is a great discovery still to be made in literature, that of paying literary men by the quantity they do not write.

The archenemy is the arch stupid!

Men seldom, or rather never for a length of time and deliberately, rebel against anything that does not deserve rebelling against.

The eternal stars shine out again, so soon as it is dark enough.