History is the distillation of rumour.

Are we not Spirits, that are shaped into a body, into an Appearance; and that fade away again into air and Invisibility? Oh, Heaven, it is mysterious, it is awful to consider that we not only carry a future Ghost within us; but are, in very deed, Ghosts! These Limbs, whence had we them; this stormy Force; this life-blood with its burning Passion? They are dust and shadow; a Shadow-system gathered round our Me; wherein, through some moments or years, the Divine Essence is to be revealed in the Flesh.

Love not pleasure; love God. This is the Everlasting Yea, wherein all contradiction is solved.

The real use of gunpowder is to make all men tall.

Nature is the time-vesture of God that reveals Him to the wise, and hides him from the foolish.

Professors of the Dismal Science, I perceive the length of your tether is now pretty well run; and I must request you to talk a little lower in the future.

A good book is the purest essence of a human soul.