Prejudice is never easy unless it can pass itself off for reason.

Most of the methods for measuring the lapse of time have, I believe, been the contrivance of monks and religious recluses, who, finding time hang heavy on their hands, were at some pains to see how they got rid of it.

A man who is determined never to move out of the beaten road cannot lose his way.

Our repugnance to death increases in proportion to our consciousness of having lived in vain.

The Princess Borghese, Bonaparte's sister, who was no saint, sat to Canova as a reclining Venus, and being asked if she did not feel a little uncomfortable, replied, "No. There was a fire in the room."

Prejudice is the child of ignorance.

Genius is native to the soil where it grows — is fed by the air, and warmed by the sun — and is not a hot - house plant or an exotic.