We would be ashamed of our best behavior if the people knew the motives of our behaving so.
Gutenberg's invention of printing is the greatest event-the mother of revolution
As for methods of prayer, all of them are good as long as they are sincere.
The memory of an absent person shines in the deepest recesses of the heart, shining the more brightly the more wholly its object has vanished: a light on the horizon of the despairing, darkened spirit; a star gleaming in our inward night.
In winter there is no heat, no light, no noon, evening touches morning, there is fog, and mist, the window is frosted, and you cannot see clearly. The sky is but the mouth of a cave. The whole day is the cave.... Frightful season! Winter changes into stone the water of heaven and the heart of man.
A fixed idea ends in madness or heroism.
Often when we think we are knotting one thread, we are tying quite another.
Civil war.... What did the words mean? Was there any such thing as "foreign war"? Was not all warfare between men warfare between brothers?
Superstition, bigotry and prejudice, ghosts though they are, cling tenaciously to life; they are shades armed with tooth and claw. They must be grappled with unceasingly, for it is a fateful part of human destiny that it is condemned to wage perpetual war against ghosts. A shade is not easily taken by the throat and destroyed.
The first proof of charity in a priest, and especially a bishop, is poverty.
God has bestowed two gifts on man: hope and ignorance. Ignorance is the better of the two.
Style is the substance of the subject called unceasingly to the surface.
There is but one way of refusing To-morrow, that is to die.
My day's work will begin again the next morning. The tomb is not a blind alley.
The man who fights against his own country is never a hero.
The flesh is the upper surface of the unknown.
In Shakespeare the birds sing, the bushes are clothed with green, hearts love, souls suffer, the cloud wanders, it is hot, it is cold, night falls, time passes, forests and multitudes speak, the vast eternal dream hovers over all. Sap and blood, all forms of the multiple reality, actions and ideas, man and humanity, the living and the life, solitudes, cities, religions, diamonds and pearls, dung-hills and charnelhouses, the ebb and flow of beings, the steps of comers and goers, all, all are on Shakespeare and in Shakespeare.
The ideal and the beautiful are identical; the ideal corresponds to the idea, and beauty to form; hence idea and substance are cognate.
Yes, the brutalities of progress are called revolutions
Loving is half of believing.
A translation in verse . . . seems to me something absurd, impossible.
Nothing is more true, more real, than the primeval magnetic disturbances that two souls may communicate to one another, through the tiny sparks of a moment's glance.
To have lied is to have suffered.
Philosophy is the microscope of thought. Everything desires to flee from it, but nothing escapes it.
When liberty returns, I will return.
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