Every revolution was first a thought in one man's mind.
Other men are lenses through which we read our own minds. Each man seeks those of different quality from his own, and such as are good of their kind; that is, he seeks other men, and the rest.
The walking of Man is falling forwards.
He is great who confers the most benefits.
The Yankee is one who, if he once gets his teeth set on a thing, all creation can't make him let go.
It is a tie between men to have read the same book.
Pain, indolence, sterility, endless ennui have also their lesson for you, if you are great.
Any work looks wonderful to me except the one which I can do.
A bullet had found him, his blood ran out as he cried. No money could save him, so he laid down and died. Ooh, what a lucky man he was.
Every day, a little sadder, a little madder. Will someone get me a ladder?
All the tools and engines on earth are only extensions of man's limbs and senses.
I will no longer confer, differ, refer, defer, prefer, or suffer. I renounce the whole tribe of fero. I embrace absolute life.
Truth is the summit of being.
It is a sign of our times, conspicuous to the coarsest observer, that many intelligent and religious persons withdraw themselves from the common labors and competitions of the market and the caucus, and betake themselves to a certain solitary and critical way of living, from which no solid fruit has yet appeared to justify their separation.
It is true that the discerning intellect of the world is always much in advance of the creative, so that there are competent judges of the best book, and few writers of the best books.
Some people will tell you there is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.
Nature is not always tricked in holiday attire, but the same scene which yesterday breathed perfume and glittered as for the frolic of the nymphs, is overspread with melancholy today. Nature always wears the colors of the spirit.
It does not to dwell on dreams and forget to live, but it is equally foolish to ignore the past – never forget.
Nature magically suits a man to his fortunes, by making them the fruit of his character.
Discontent is want of self-reliance; it is infirmity of will.
Nature and books belong to the eyes that see them. It depends on the mood of the man, whether he shall see the sunset or the fine poem. There are always sunsets, and there is always genius; but only a few hours so serene that we can relish nature or criticism. The more or less depends on structure or temperament. Temperament is the iron wire on which the beads are strung. Of what use is fortune or talent to a cold and defective store?
He only is a well-made man who has a good determination.
Only poetry inspires poetry.
It is better to suffer injustice than to do it.
To give money to a sufferer is only a come-off. It is only a postponement of the real payment, a bribe paid for silence, a creditsystem in which a paper promise to pay answers for the time instead of liquidation. We owe to man higher succors than food and fire. We owe to man.
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