No sooner does a great man depart, and leave his character as public property, than a crowd of little men rushes towards it. There they are gathered together, blinking up to it with such vision as they have, scanning it from afar, hovering round it this way and that, each cunningly endeavoring, by all arts, to catch some reflex of it in the little mirror of himself.

Infinite is the help man can yield to man.

Thought is the parent of the deed.

To us also, through every star, through every blade of grass, is not God made visible if we will open our minds and our eyes.

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

Metaphysics is the attempt of the mind to rise above the mind.

My whinstone house my castle is, I have my own four walls.