Long stormy spring-time, wet contentious April, winter chilling the lap of very May; but at length the season of summer does come.

The essence of humor is sensibility; warm, tender fellow-feeling with all forms of existence.

Every man has a coward and hero in his soul.

The true past departs not, no truth or goodness realized by man ever dies, or can die; but all is still here, and, recognized or not, lives and works through endless change.

Perfect ignorance is quiet, perfect knowledge is quiet; not so the transition from the former to the latter.

No sadder proof can be given by a man of his own littleness than disbelief in great men.

Laissez-faire, supply and demand-one begins to be weary of all that. Leave all to egotism, to ravenous greed of money, of pleasure, of applause-it is the gospel of despair.