Truth, as any dictionary will tell you, is a property of certain of our ideas. It means their agreement, as falsity means their disagreement, with reality.

Nature in her unfathomable designs had mixed us of clay and flame, of brain and mind, that the two things hang indubitably together and determine each other's being but how or why, no mortal may ever know.

Strength is a facade for the proud, weakness is a mask for the lazy.

The mind, in short, works on the data it receives very much as the sculptor works on his block of stone.

As long as there are postmen, life will have zest.

If, then, you wish to insure the interest of your pupils, there is only one way to do it; and that is to make certain that they have something in their minds to attend with, when you begin to talk. That something can consist in nothing but a previous lot of ideas already interesting in themselves, and of such a nature that the incoming novel objects which you present can dovetail into them and form with them some kind of a logically associated or systematic whole.

We are proud of a human nature that could be so passionately extreme, but we shrink from advising others to follow the example.