Isolation is the sum total of wretchedness to a man.

A well-written life is almost as rare as a well-spent one.

No person was every rightly understood until they had been first regarded with a certain feeling, not of tolerance, but of sympathy.

No ghost was every seen by two pair of eyes.

Give us, O give us the man who sings at his work! Be his occupation what it may, he is equal to any of those who follow the same pursuit in silent sullenness. He will do more in the same time . . . he will do it better . . . he will persevere longer. One is scarcely sensible to fatigue while he marches to music. The very stars are said to make harmony as they revolve in their spheres.

I know so little about any history. How little do I know even about the history of myself.

A stammering man is never a worthless one. Physiology can tell you why. It is an excess of sensibility to the presence of his fellow creature, that makes him stammer.