Beauty without expression is boring.
A gentleman makes no noise; a lady is serene.
Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window.
In different hours, a man represents each of several of his ancestors, as if there were seven or eight of us rolled up in each man's skin, - seven or eight ancestors at least, and they constitute the variety of notes for that new piece of music which his life is.
Music is the poor man's Parnassus.
Courage consists in equality to the problem before us.
There is properly no history, only biography.
Though we travel the world over to find beauty, we must carry it with us or we find it not . . . The difference between landscape and landscape is small, but there is a great difference in beholders.
Talent finds its models, methods, and ends in society, exists for exhibition, and goes to the soul only for power to work. Genius is its own end, and draws its means and the style of its architecture from within.
A cheerful intelligent face is the end of culture, and success enough. For it indicates the purpose of Nature and wisdom attained.
We say that every man is entitled to be valued by his best moment. We measure our friends so. We know, they have intervals of folly, whereof we take no heed, but wait the reappearings of the genius, which are sure and beautiful.
The secret of fortune is joy in our hands.
There is a tendency for things to right themselves.
The greatest man in history was the poorest.
Homeopathy is insignificant as an act of healing, but of great value as criticism on the hygeia or medical practice of the time.
We fly to beauty as an asylum from the terrors of finite nature.
Higher than the question of our duration is the question of our deserving. Immortality will come to such as are fit for it, and he would be a great soul in future must be a great soul now.
Genius Borrows nobly.
The mark of the man of the world is absence of pretension. He does not make a speech; he takes a low business-tone, avoids all brag, is nobody, dresses plainly, promises not at all, performs much, speaks in monosyllables, hugs his fact.
Nothing is great but the inexhaustible wealth of nature.
All high beauty has a moral element in it.
We cannot describe the natural history of the soul, but we know that it is divine. All things are known to the soul. It is not to be surprised by any communication. Nothing can be greater than it, let those fear and those fawn who will. The soul is in her native realm; and it is wider than space, older than time, wide as hope, rich as love. Pusillanimity and fear she refuses with a beautiful scorn; they are not for her who putteth on her coronation robes, and goes out through universal love to universal power.
The poem is a confession of faith.
Ethics and religion differ herein; that the one is the system of human duties commencing from man; the other, from God. Religion includes the personality of God; Ethics does not.
The reliance on authority measures the decline of religion, the withdrawal of the soul.
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