Is there no God, then, but at best an absentee God, sitting idle, ever since the first Sabbath, at the outside of his Universe?
He that has a secret should not only hide it, but hide that he has it to hide.
If an eloquent speaker speak not the truth, is there a more horrid kind of object in creation?
Metaphysics is the attempt of the mind to rise above the mind.
The dust of controversy is merely the falsehood flying off.
Every poet, be his outward lot what it may, finds himself born in the midst of prose; h e has to struggle from the littleness and obstruction of an actual world into the freedom and infinitude of an ideal.