An intellectual hatred is the worst.

The living can assist the imagination of the dead.

All art is in the last analysis an endeavor to condense as out of the flying vapor of the world an image of human perfection, and for its own and not for the art's sake.

Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a while.

Teaching is not filling up a pail, it is lighting a fire.

O heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head You'd know the folly of being comforted.

Think like a wise man but communicate in the language of the people.