Philosophy is at once the most sublime and the most trivial of human pursuits.

In the deepest heart of all of us there is a corner in which the ultimate mystery of things works sadly.

Between what a man calls me and what he simply calls mine the line is difficult to draw. We feel and act about certain things that are ours very much as we feel and act about ourselves.

I have often thought the best way to define a man's character would be to seek out the particular mental or moral attitude in which, when it comes upon him, he felt himself most deeply and intensely active and alive. At such moments there is a voice inside which speaks and says: This is the real me!.

How to gain, how to keep, how to recover happiness is in fact for most men at all times the secret motive of all they do, and of all they are willing to endure.

I will act as if I do make a difference.

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