I know not all that may be coming, but be it what it will, I'll go to it laughing.
There is a savor of life and immortality in substantial fare. Like balloons, we are nothing till filled.
Mystery is in the morning, and mystery in the night, and the beauty of mystery is everywhere; but still the plain truth remains, that mouth and purse must be filled.
We may have civilized bodies and yet barbarous souls.
Do not presume, well-housed, well-warmed, and well-fed, to criticize the poor
They talk of the dignity of work. The dignity is in leisure.
People think that if a man has undergone any hardship, he should have a reward; but for my part, if I have done the hardest possible day's work, and then come to sit down in a corner and eat my supper comfortably -why, then I don't think I deserve any reward for my hard day's work -for am I not now at peace? Is not my supper good?
There are some enterprises in which a careful disorderliness is the true method.
The entire merit of a man can never be made known; nor the sum of his demerits, if he have them. We are only known by our names; as letters sealed up, we but read each other's superscriptions.
Heaven have mercy on us all - Presbyterians and Pagans alike - for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head, and sadly need mending.
A man of true science... thinks, that by mouthing hard words, he proves that he understands hard things.
Toil is man's allotment; toil of brain, or toil of hands, or a grief that's more than either, the grief and sin of idleness.
An utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward.
What is an atheist, but one who does not, or will not, see in the universe a ruling principle of love; and what a misanthrope, but one who does not, or will not, see in man a ruling principle of kindness?
Beneath those stars is a universe of gliding monsters.
Know, thou, that the lines that live are turned out of a furrowed brow.
Old age is always wakeful; as if, the longer linked with life, the less man has to do with aught that looks like death.
A book in a man's brain is better off than a book bound in calf - at any rate it is safer from criticism.
The terrors of truth and dart of death To faith alike are vain.
There is nothing so slipperily alluring as sadness; we become sad in the first place by having nothing stirring to do; we continue in it, because we have found a snug sofa at last.
Truth is ever incoherent, and when the big hearts strike together, the concussion is a little stunning.
My body is but the lees of my better being.
To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain.
Immortality is but ubiquity in time.
The Past is the textbook of tyrants; the Future the Bible of the Free. Those who are solely governed by the Past stand like Lot's wife, crystallized in the act of looking backward, and forever incapable of looking before.
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