The book which you read from a sense of duty, or because for any reason you must, does not commonly make friends with you.

The swelling and towering omnibuses, the huge trucks and wagons and carriages, the impetuous hansoms and the more sobered four-wheelers, the pony-carts, donkey-carts, hand-carts, and bicycles which fearlessly find their way amidst the turmoil, with foot-passengers winding in and out, and covering the sidewalks with their multitude, give the effect of a single monstrous organism, which writhes swiftly along the channel where it had run in the figure of a flood till you were tired of that metaphor. You are now a molecule of that vast organism.

The mortality of all inanimate things is terrible to me, but that of books most of all.

Inequality is as dear to the American heart as liberty itself.

Primitive societies without religion have never been found.

The wars come and go in blood and tears; but whether they are bad wars, or what are comically called good wars, they are of one effect in death and sorrow.

Is it worth while to observe that there are no Venetian blinds in Venice?