Our very walking is an incessant falling; a falling and a catching of ourselves before we come actually to the pavement. It is emblematic of all things a man does.
Is there no God, then, but at best an absentee God, sitting idle, ever since the first Sabbath, at the outside of his Universe?
To the mean eye all things are trivial, as certainly as to the jaundiced they are yellow.
Does not every true man feel that he is himself made higher by doing reverence to what is really above him?
Is not every meanest day the confluence of two eternities?
All comes out even at the end of the day.
There is no permanent place in this universe for evil... Evil may hide behind this fallacy and that, but it will be hunted from fallacy to fallacy until there is no more fallacy for it to hide behind.
Histories are as perfect as the Historian is wise, and is gifted with an eye and a soul.
All history . . . is an inarticulate Bible.
He who first shortened the labor of Copyists by device of Movable Types was disbanding hired armies and cashiering most Kings and Senates, and creating a whole new Democratic world: he had invented the Art of printing.
Skepticism means, not intellectual doubt alone, but moral doubt.
Midas-eared Mammonism, double-barrelled Dilettantism, and their thousand adjuncts and corollaries, are not the Law by which God Almighty has appointed this His universe to go.
The goal of yesterday will be our starting-point to-morrow.
Reform, like charity, must begin at home.
Nature admits no lie.
Originality is a thing we constantly clamour for, and constantly quarrel with; as if, observes our author himself, any originality but our own could be expected to content us! In fact all strange thing are apt, without fault of theirs, to estrange us at first view, and unhappily scarcely anything is perfectly plain, but what is also perfectly common.
Happy season of virtuous youth, when shame is still an impassable barrier, and the sacred air-cities of hope have not shrunk into the mean clay hamlets of reality; and man, by his nature, is yet infinite and free.
Caution is the lower story of prudence.
Wondrous is the strength of cheerfulness, altogether past calculation its powers of endurance.
With union grounded on falsehood and ordering us to speak and act lies, we will not have anything to do. Peace? A brutal lethargy is peaceable; the noisome is peaceable. We hope for a living peace, not a dead one!
Every man is my superior in that I may learn from him.
Clever men are good, but they are not the best.
Speech is human, silence is divine, yet also brutish and dead: therefore we must learn both arts.
History is the new poetry.
The dead are all holy, even they that were base and wicked while alive. Their baseness and wickedness was not they, was but the heavy and unmanageable environment that lay round them.
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