All work of man is as the swimmer's: a vast ocean threatens to devour him; if he front it not bravely, it will keep its word.

Conviction is worthless unless it is converted into conduct.

History is a mighty dramos, enacted upon the theatre of times, with suns for lamps and eternity for a background.

Thought, true labor of any kind, highest virtue itself, is it not the daughter of Pain?

The thing is not only to avoid error, but to attain immense masses of truth.

Nature is the time-vesture of God that reveals Him to the wise, and hides him from the foolish.

Woe to him, . . . who has no court of appeal against the world's judgment.