Poetry, therefore, we will call Musical Thought.

A man without a goal is like a ship without a rudder.

There are depths in man that go to the lowest hell, and heights that reach the highest heaven, for are not both heaven and hell made out of him, everlasting miracle and mystery that he is.

Conclusive facts are inseparable from inconclusive except by a head that already understands and knows.

The fearful unbelief is unbelief in yourself.

All true work is sacred.

Neither had Watt of the Steam engine a heroic origin, any kindred with the princes of this world. The princes of this world were shooting their partridges... While this man with blackened fingers, with grim brow, was searching out, in his workshop, the Fire-secret.