The time is ripe, and rotten-ripe, for change... [Truth's] mirror is turned forward, to reflect The promise of the future, not the past.
Most men make the voyage of life as if they carried sealed orders which they were not to open till they were fairly in mid-ocean.
The nurse of full-grown souls is solitude.
The Holy Supper is kept, indeed, In whatso we share with anothers need; Not what we give, but what we share, For the gift without the giver is bare; Who gives himself with his alms feeds three, Himself, his hungering neighbor, and me.
The devil loves nothing better than the intolerance of reformers.
Endurance is the crowning quality.
Imagination, where it is truly creative, is a faculty, and not a quality; it looks before and after, it gives the form that makes all the parts work together harmoniously toward a given end, its seat is in the higher reason, and it is efficient only as a servant of the will. Imagination, as it is too often misunderstood, is mere fantasy, the image-making power, common to all who have the gift of dreams.
Stories now, to suit a public taste, must be half epigram, half pleasant vice.
In the ocean of baseness, the deeper we get, the easier the sinking.
Let us be of good cheer, however, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those which never come.
History is clarified experience.
Sincerity is impossible, unless it pervade the whole being, and the pretence of it saps the very foundation of character.
Stern men with empires in their brains.
The pressure of public opinion is like the pressure of the atmosphere; you can't see it - but all the same, it is sixteen pounds to the square inch.
Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide.
In vain we call old notions fudge, And bend our conscience to our dealing; The Ten Commandments will not budge, And stealing will continue stealing.
To educate the intelligence is to expand the horizon of its wants and desires.
They have rights who dare maintain them.
Violet! sweet violet! Thine eyes are full of tears; Are they wet Even yet With the thought of other years?
That love for one, from which there doth not spring Wide love for all, is but a worthless thing.
Slow are the steps of freedom, but her feet turn never backward.
The flowers or weeds that spring up tomorrow are in the seeds we sow today. The foolish and the dead alone never change their opinions.
I willingly confess to so great a partiality for trees as tempts me to respect a man in exact proportion to his respect for them.
And what they dare to dream of, date to do.
Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave no wake; And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.
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