Once the itch of literature comes over a man,
Nothing can cure it but the scratching of a pen.

Literature shows the body in its swiftness
And the soul in its unrest

All pianists can play the same notes but
It is the pauses in between where the magic resides.

The well of Providence is deep.
It's the buckets we bring to it that are small.

What is character but the determination of incident?
What is incident but the illustration of character?

Has Man, in stretching out his hands to reach the stars,
Forgotten about the flowers at his feet?

If you try to avoid a powerful wave looming above you on the beach,
It will send you crashing into the sand.
But if you face it head-on and dive right into it,
You discover only water.

The humblest citizen of all the land,
When clad in the armour of a righteous cause
Is stronger than all the hosts of error.

As long as there are earnest believers in the world,
They will always wish to punish opinions;
Even if their judgement tells them it is unwise,
And their conscience that it is wrong.

Plain truth will influence half a score of men in a million,
While mystery will lead millions by the nose.

Loneliness is a cloak you wear, the itching in you is always there.
Emptiness is a place you are in, with nothing to lose and no more to win.

Damn with faint praise, assent with civil leer,
And without sneering teach the rest to sneer.

Boredom is a sign of satisfied ignorance, blunted apprehension, crass sympathies, dull understanding, feeble powers of attention and irreclaimable weakness of character.