History is a mighty dramos, enacted upon the theatre of times, with suns for lamps and eternity for a background.

In books lies the soul fo the whole past time.

To me the Universe was all void of Life, of Purpose, of Volition, even of Hostility; it was one huge, dead, immeasurable Steam-engine, rolling on, in its dead indifference, to grind me limb from limb. Oh vast gloomy, solitary Golgotha, and Mill of Death! Why was the living banished thither companionless, conscious? Why, if there is no Devil; nay, unless the Devil is your God?

Of all the things which man can do or make here below, by far the most momentous, wonderful, and worthy are the things we call books.

It is not a lucky word, this name impossible; no good comes of those who have it so often in their mouths.

Social Science, is not a 'gay science' but rueful, which finds the secret of this universe in 'supply and demand' and reduces the duty of human governors to that of letting men alone. Not a 'gay science', no, a dreary, desolate, and indeed quite abject and distressing one; what we might call, the dismal science

Love is the only game that is not called on account of darkness.