Nature, after all, is still the grand agent in making poets.

I call that [Book of Job], apart from all theories about it, one of the grandest things ever written with pen.

Of a truth, men are mystically united: a mystic bond of brotherhood makes all men one.

The genuine essence of truth never dies.

When I gaze into the stars, they look down upon me with pity from their serene and silent spaces, like eyes glistening with tears over the little lot of man. Thousands of generations, all as noisy as our own, have been swallowed up by time, and there remains no record of them any more. Yet Arcturus and Orion, Sirius and Pleiades, are still shining in their courses, clear and young, as when the shepherd first noted them in the plain of Shinar!

Not one false man but doth uncountable evil.

Genius is an infinite capacity for taking pains.