All true work is sacred. In all true work, were it but true hand work, there is something of divineness. Labor, wide as the earth, has its summit in Heaven.

Dishonesty is the raw material not of quacks only, but also in great part dupes.

Is man’s civilization only a wrappage, through which the savage nature of him can still burst, infernal as ever?

Men's hearts ought not to be set against one another, but set with one another and all against evil only.

Of all your troubles, great and small, the greatest are the ones that don't happen at all.

One monster there is in the world, the idle man.

All deep things are song. It seems somehow the very central essence of us, song; as if all the rest were but wrappages and hulls!