These pearls of thought in Persian gulfs were bred, Each softly lucent as a rounded moon; The diver Omar plucked them from their bed, Fitzgerald strung them on an English thread.
The material of thought re-acts upon the thought itself.
Through aisles of long-drawn centuries my spirit walks in thought.
God is the only being who has time enough; but a prudent man, who knows how to seize occasion, can commonly make a shift to find as much as he needs.
There are two kinds of weakness, that which breaks and that which bends.
There is only one thing better than tradition and that is the original and eternal life out of which all tradition takes its rise.
The surest plan to make a man is, think him so.
A beggar through the world am I, From place to place I wander by. Fill up my pilgrim's scrip for me, For Christ's sweet sake and charity.
Truth always has a bewitching savor of newness in it, and novelty at the first taste recalls that original sweetness to the tongue; but alas for him who would make the one a substitute for the other.
Truth only needs to be for once spoken out; and there's such music in her, such strange rhythm, as makes men's memories her joyous slaves.
Like streams that keep a summer mind Snow-hid in Jenooary.
The idol is the measure of the worshipper.
It is the privilege of genius that life never grows common place, as it does for the rest of us.
Virtue treads paths that end not in the grave.
Earth's noblest thing,-a woman perfected.
Men! whose boast it is that ye Come of fathers brave and free, If there breathe on earth a slave, Are ye truly free and brave?
Two meanings have our lightest fantasies,- One of the flesh, and of the spirit one.
A stray hair, by its continued irritation, may give more annoyance than a smart blow.
A father of the church said that property was theft, many centuries before Proudhon was born. Bourdaloue reaffirmed it. Montesquieu was the inventor of national workshops and of the theory that the state owed every man a living. Nay, was not the church herself the first organized democracy?
The Don Quixote of one generation may live to hear himself called the savior of society by the next.
So we're all right, an' I, for one, Don't think our cause'll lose in vally By rammin' Scriptur' in our gun, An' gittin' Natur' for an ally.
May is a pious fraud of the almanac A ghastly parody of real Spring Shaped out of snow and breathed with eastern wind.
A profound common sense is the best genius for statesmanship.
Fools, when their roof-tree falls, think it doomsday.
To me it seems not unreasonable to find a re-enforcement of optimism, a renewal of courage and hope, in the modern theory that man has mounted to what he is from the lowest step of potentiality, through toilsome grades of ever-expanding existence, even thought it have been by a spiral stairway, mainly dark or dusty, with loop-holes at long intervals only, and these granting but a narrow and one-sided view.
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