I am still of opinion that only two topics can be of the least interest to a serious and studious mood - sex and the dead.

It takes more courage to dig deep in the dark corners of your own soul and the back alleys of your society than it does for a soldier to fight on the battlefield.

Englishmen are babes in philosophy and so prefer faction-fighting to the labour of its unfamiliar thought.

Whence had they come The hand and lash that beat down frigid Rome? What sacred drama through her body heaved When world-transforming Charlemagne was conceived?

Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.

Hearts with one purpose alone/Through summer and winter seem/Enchanted to a stone/To trouble the living stream.

How can we know the dancer from the dance?