So much of truth, only under an ancient obsolete vesture, but the spirit of it still true, do I find in the Paganism of old nations. Nature is still divine, the revelation of the workings of God; the Hero is still worshipable: this, under poor cramped incipient forms, is what all Pagan religions have struggled, as they could, to set forth.

Let each become all that he was created capable of being.

A poor creature who has said or done nothing worth a serious man taking the trouble of remembering.

Silence is the element in which great things fashion themselves together.

Not one false man but doth uncountable evil.

A pygmy standing on the outward crust of this small planet, his far-reaching spirit stretches outward to the infinite, and there alone finds rest.

The whole past is the procession of the present.