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

To the vulgar eye, few things are wonderful that are not distant

I should say sincerity, a deep, great, genuine sincerity, is the first characteristic of all men in any way heroic.

We call that fire of the black thunder-cloud "electricity," and lecture learnedly about it, and grind the like of it out of glass and silk: but what is it? What made it? Whence comes it? Whither goes it?

Is there no God, then, but at best an absentee God, sitting idle, ever since the first Sabbath, at the outside of his Universe?

If those gentlemen would let me alone I should be much obliged to them. I would say, as Shakespeare would say... Sweet Friend, for Jesus sake forbear.

The difference between Socrates and Jesus? The great conscious and the immeasurably great unconscious.