Skepticism . . . is not intellectual only it is moral also, a chronic atrophy and disease of the whole soul.

There is a great discovery still to be made in literature, that of paying literary men by the quantity they do not write.

There is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, in work. Were he never so benighted, forgetful of his high calling, there is always hope in a man that actually and earnestly works: in idleness alone there is perpetual despair.

A man lives by believing something: not by debating and arguing about many things.

At the bottom there is no perfect history; there is none such conceivable. All past centuries have rotted down, and gone confusedly dumb and quiet.

Make yourself an honest man, and then you may be sure there is one less rascal in the world.

The true eye for talent presupposes the true reverence for it.