Are we so made that we have to take death in small doses daily or we could not go on with the business of living?

Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul. She becomes all outer show and inward emptiness; dull, callous, and indifferent.

Masterpieces are not single and solitary births; they are the outcome of many years of thinking in common, of thinking by the body of the people, so that the experience of the mass is behind the single voice.

Does Nature supplement what man advanced? Or does she complete what he began?

I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don't have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.

What a lark! What a plunge!

She thought there were no Gods; no one was to blame; and so she evolved this atheist's religion of doing good for the sake of goodness.