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Considering The Multitude Of Mortals That Handle The Pen In These Days, And Can Mostly Spell, And Write Without Glaring Violations Of Grammar, The Question Naturally Arises: How Is It, Then, That No Work Proceeds From Them, Bearing Any Stamp Of Authenticity And Permanence; Of Worth For More Than One Day?

-Thomas Carlyle

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Considering The Multitude Of

Thomas Carlyle

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Considering The Multitude Of Mortals That Handle The Pen In These Days, And Can Mostly Spell, And Write Without Glaring Violations Of Grammar, The Question Naturally Arises: How Is It, Then, That No Work Proceeds From Them, Bearing Any Stamp Of Authenticity And Permanence; Of Worth For More Than One Day?

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Wealth Has More And More Increased, And At The Same Time Gathered Itself More And More Into Masses, Strangely Altering The Old Relations, And Increasing The Distance Between The Rich And The Poor.

A Heavenly Awe Overshadowed And Encompassed, As It Still Ought, And Must, All Earthly Business Whatsoever.

Endurance Is Patience Concentrated.

Nine-tenths Of The Miseries And Vices Of Mankind Proceed From Idleness.

We Call That Fire Of The Black Thunder-cloud "electricity," And Lecture Learnedly About It, And Grind The Like Of It Out Of Glass And Silk: But What Is It? What Made It? Whence Comes It? Whither Goes It?

May Blessings Be Upon The Head Of Cadmus, The Phoenicians, Or Whoever It Was That Invented Books.

Man's Unhappiness, As I Construe, Comes Of His Greatness; It Is Because There Is An Infinite In Him, With Which All His Cunning He Cannot Quite Bury Under The Finite... Try Him With Half Of A Universe, Of An Omnipotence, He Sets To Quarreling With The Proprietor Of The Other Half, And Declares Himself The Most Maltreated Of Men. Always There Is A Black Spot In Our Sunshine: It Is Even, As I Said, The Shadow Of Ourselves.

Taste, If It Mean Anything But A Paltry Connoisseurship, Must Mean A General Susceptibility To Truth And Nobleness, A Sense To Discern, And A Heart To Love And Reverence All Beauty, Order, Goodness, Wheresoever, Or In Whatsoever Forms And Accompaniments They Are To Be Seen. This Surely Implies, As Its Chief Condition, Not Any Given External Rank Or Situation, But A Finely-gifted Mind, Purified Into Harmony With Itself, Into Keenness And Justness Of Vision; Above All, Kindled Into Love And Generous Admiration.

The Aristocracy Of Feudal Parchment Has Passed Away With A Mighty Rushing, And Now, By A Natural Course, We Arrive At Aristocracy Of The Money-bag.

Acorns Are Planted Silently By Some Unnoticed Breeze.

Force, Force, Everywhere Force; We Ourselves A Mysterious Force In The Centre Of That. "there Is Not A Leaf Rotting On The Highway But Has Force In It: How Else Could It Rot?" [as Used In His Time, By The Word Force, Carlyle Means Energy.]

A Stammering Man Is Never A Worthless One. Physiology Can Tell You Why. It Is An Excess Of Sensibility To The Presence Of His Fellow Creature, That Makes Him Stammer.

The Essence Of Humor Is Sensibility; Warm, Tender Fellow-feeling With All Forms Of Existence.

They Only Are Wise Who Know That They Know Nothing.

Thought, True Labor Of Any Kind, Highest Virtue Itself, Is It Not The Daughter Of Pain?

The True Past Departs Not, No Truth Or Goodness Realized By Man Ever Dies, Or Can Die; But All Is Still Here, And, Recognized Or Not, Lives And Works Through Endless Change.

A Man With A Half Volition Goes Backwards And Forwards, And Makes No Way On The Smoothest Road; A Man With A Whole Volition Advances On The Roughest, And Will Reach His Purpose, If There Be Even A Little Worthiness In It. The Man Without A Purpose Is Like A Ship Without A Rudder - A Waif, A Nothing, A No Man. Have A Purpose In Life And Having It, Throw Such Strength Of Mind And Muscle Into Your Work As God Has Given You.

Infinite Is The Help Man Can Yield To Man.

Debt Is A Bottomless Sea.

Rare Benevolence, The Minister Of God.

My Whinstone House My Castle Is, I Have My Own Four Walls.

Our Grand Business Undoubtedly Is, Not To See What Lies Dimly At A Distance, But To Do What Lies Clearly At Hand.

Shakespeare Says, We Are Creatures That Look Before And After; The More Surprising That We Do Not Look Around A Little, And See What Is Passing Under Our Very Eyes.

Talk That Does Not End In Any Kind Of Action Is Better Suppressed Altogether.

The Infinite, Absolute Character Of Virtue Has Passed Into A Finite, Conditional One; It Is No Longer A Worship Of The Beautiful And Good; But A Calculation Of The Profitable.

Isolation Is The Sum Total Of Wretchedness To A Man.

Does Not Every True Man Feel That He Is Himself Made Higher By Doing Reverence To What Is Really Above Him?

Let Time And Chance Combine, Combine! Let Time And Chance Combine! The Fairest Love From Heaven Above, That Love Of Yours Was Mine, My Dear! That Love Of Yours Was Mine.

I Grow Daily To Honor Facts More And More, And Theory Less And Less.

Rightly Viewed No Meanest Object Is Insignificant; All Objects Are As Windows Through Which The Philosophic Eye Looks Into Infinitude Itself.

In Books Lies The Soul Fo The Whole Past Time.

No Person Is Important Enough To Make Me Angry.

Whoso Has Sixpence Is Sovereign (to The Length Of Sixpence) Over All Men; Commands Cooks To Feed Him, Philosophers To Teach Him, Kings To Mount Guard Over Him,to The Length Of Sixpence.

Alas! While The Body Stands So Broad And Brawny, Must The Soul Lie Blinded, Dwarfed, Stupefied, Almost Annihilated? Alas! This Was, Too, A Breath Of God, Bestowed In Heaven, But On Earth Never To Be Unfolded!

Only The Person Of Worth Can Recognize The Worth In Others.

Rest Is For The Dead.

We Were Wise Indeed, Could We Discern Truly The Signs Of Our Own Time; And By Knowledge Of Its Wants And Advantages, Wisely Adjust Our Own Position In It. Let Us, Instead Of Gazing Idly Into The Obscure Distance, Look Calmly Around Us, For A Little, On The Perplexed Scene Where We Stand. Perhaps, On A More Serious Inspection, Something Of Its Perplexity Will Disappear, Some Of Its Distinctive Characters And Deeper Tendencies More Clearly Reveal Themselves; Whereby Our Own Relations To It, Our Own True Aims And Endeavors In It, May Also Become Clearer.

There Is No Heroic Poem In The World But Is At Bottom A Biography, The Life Of A Man.

We Arc The Miracle Of Miracles, The Great Inscrutable Mystery Of God.

Woe To Him That Claims Obedience When It Is Not Due; Woe To Him That Refuses It When It Is.

Worship Of A Hero Is Transcendent Admiration Of A Great Man.

It Is Now Almost My Sole Rule Of Life To Clear Myself Of Cants And Formulas, As Of Poisonous Nessus Shirts.

A Man Lives By Believing Something.

Without Oblivion, There Is No Remembrance Possible. When Both Oblivion And Memory Are Wise, When The General Soul Of Man Is Clear, Melodious, True, There May Come A Modern Iliad As Memorial Of The Past.

Love Is The Only Game That Is Not Called On Account Of Darkness.

To Each Is Given A Certain Inward Talent, A Certain Outward Environment Or Fortune; To Each By Wisest Combination Of These Two, A Certain Maximum Capacity.

This Is The Eternal Law Of Nature For A Man, My Beneficent Exeter-hall Friends; This, That He Shall Be Permitted, Encouraged, And If Need Be, Compelled To Do What Work The Maker Of Him Has Intended By The Making Of Him For This World! Not That He Should Eat Pumpkin With Never Such Felicity In The West India Islands Is, Or Can Be, The Blessedness Of Our Black Friend; But That He Should Do Useful Work There, According As The Gifts Have Been Bestowed On Him For That.

Science Has Done Much For Us; But It Is A Poor Science That Would Hide From Us The Great Deep Sacred Infinitude Of Nescience, On Which All Science Swims As A Mere Superficial Film.

If A Book Comes From The Heart, It Will Contrive To Reach Other Hearts; All Art And Author-craft Are Of Small Amount To That.

There Are Depths In Man That Go To The Lowest Hell, And Heights That Reach The Highest Heaven, For Are Not Both Heaven And Hell Made Out Of Him, Everlasting Miracle And Mystery That He Is.

At Worst, Is Not This An Unjust World, Full Of Nothing But Beasts Of Prey, Four-footed Or Two-footed?

Action Hangs, As It Were, Dissolved In Speech, In Thoughts Whereof Speech Is The Shadow; And Precipitates Itself Therefrom. The Kind Of Speech In A Man Betokens The Kind Of Action You Will Get From Him.

The Hell Of These Days Is The Fear Of Not Getting Along, Especially Of Not Making Money.

What Is Philosophy But A Continual Battle Against Custom?

High Air-castles Are Cunningly Built Of Words, The Words Well Bedded Also In Good Logic-mortar; Wherein, However, No Knowledge Will Come To Lodge.

Out Of Eternity The New Day Is Born; Into Eternity At Night Will Return.

Statistics, One May Hope, Will Improve Gradually, And Become Good For Something. Meanwhile, It Is To Be Feared The Crabbed Satirist Was Partly Right, As Things Go: "a Judicious Man," Says He, "looks At Statistics, Not To Get Knowledge, But To Save Himself From Having Ignorance Foisted On Him."

It Is Not To Taste Sweet Things; But To Do Noble And True Things, And Vindicate Himself Under God's Heaven As A God-made Man, That The Poorest Son Of Adam Dimly Longs. Show Him The Way Of Doing That, The Dullest Day-drudge Kindles Into A Hero. They Wrong Man Greatly Who Say He Is To Be Seduced By Ease. Difficulty, Abnegation, Martyrdom, Death, Are The Allurements That Act On The Heart Of Man. Kindle The Inner Genial Life Of Him, You Have A Flame That Burns Up All Lower Considerations.

Obedience Is Our Universal Duty And Destiny; Wherein Whoso Will Not Bend Must Break; Too Early And Too Thoroughly We Cannot Be Trained To Know That "would," In This World Of Ours, Is A Mere Zero To "should," And For Most Part As The Smallest Of Fractions Even To "shall.

A Very Sea Of Thought; Neither Calm Nor Clear, If You Will, Yet Wherein The Toughest Pearl-diver May Dive To His Utmost Depth, And Return Not Only With Sea-wreck But With True Orients.

Let Him Who Would Move And Convince Others, Be First Moved And Convinced Himself.

What This Country Needs Is A Man Who Knows God Other Than By Heresay.

And There Are Ben [jonson] And William Shakespeare In Wit-combat, Sure Enough; Ben Bearing Down Like A Mighty Spanish War-ship, Fraught With All Learning And Artillery; Shakespeare Whisking Away From Him - Whisking Right Through Him, Athwart The Big Bulk And Timbers Of Him; Like A Miraculous Celestial Light-ship, Woven All Of Sheet-lightning And Sunbeams!

The Work An Unknown Good Man Has Done Is Like A Vein Of Water Flowing Hidden Underground, Secretly Making The Ground Green.

Man Is Emphatically A Proselytizing Creature.

The Crash Of The Whole Solar And Stellar Systems Could Only Kill You Once.

Why Tell Me That A Man Is A Fine Speaker, If It Is Not The Truth That He Is Speaking?

Rich As We Are In Biography, A Well-written Life Is Almost As Rare As A Well-spent One; And There Are Certainly Many More Men Whose History Deserves To Be Recorded Than Persons Willing And Able To Record It.

The Great Soul Of This World Is Just.

No Conquest Can Ever Become Permanent Which Does Not Show Itself Beneficial To The Conquered As Well As To The Conquerors.

Laughter Is One Of The Very Privileges Of Reason, Being Confined To The Human Species.

Feel It In Thy Heart And Then Say Whether It Is Of God!

We Call It A Society; And Go About Professing Openly The Totalest Separation, Isolation. Our Life Is Not A Mutual Helpfulness; But Rather, Cloaked Under Due Laws-of-war, Named Fair Competition And So Forth, It Is A Mutual Hostility.

Poverty, We May Say, Surrounds A Man With Ready-made Barriers, Which If They Do Mournfully Gall And Hamper, Do At Least Prescribe For Him, And Force On Him, A Sort Of Course And Goal; A Safe And Beaten, Though A Circuitous, Course. A Great Part Of His Guidance Is Secure Against Fatal Error, Is Withdrawn From His Control. The Rich, Again, Has His Whole Life To Guide, Without Goal Or Barrier, Save Of His Own Choosing, And, Tempted, Is Too Likely To Guide It Ill.

He Who Would Write Heroic Poems Should Make His Whole Life A Heroic Poem.

In No Time Whatever Can Small Critics Entirely Eradicate Out Of Living Men's Hearts A Certain Altogether Peculiar Collar Reverence For Great Men--genuine Admiration, Loyalty, Adora-tion.

I Don't Pretend To Understand The Universe - It's A Great Deal Bigger Than I Am.

Let Him Who Gropes Painfully In Darkness Or Uncertain Light, And Prays Vehemently That The Dawn May Ripen Into Day, Lay This Precept Well To Heart: "do The Duty Which Lies Nearest To Thee," Which Thou Know To Be A Duty! Thy Second Duty Will Already Have Become Clearer.

The Present Is The Living Sum-total Of The Whole Past.

One Is Hardly Sensible Of Fatigue While He Marches To Music.

He That Will Not Work According To His Faculty, Let Him Perish According To His Necessity: There Is No Law Juster Than That.

Habit And Imitation--there Is Nothing More Perennial In Us Than These Two. They Are The Source Of All Working, And All Apprenticeship, Of All Practice, And All Learning, In This World.

If Time Is Precious, No Book That Will Not Improve By Repeated Readings Deserves To Be Read At All.

Let One Who Wants To Move And Convince Others, First Be Convinced And Moved Themselves. If A Person Speaks With Genuine Earnestness The Thoughts, The Emotion And The Actual Condition Of Their Own Heart, Others Will Listen Because We All Are Knit Together By The Tie Of Sympathy.

The Ideal Is In Thyself, The Impediments Too Is In Thyself.

We Observe With Confidence That The Truly Strong Mind, View It As Intellect Or Morality, Or Under Any Other Aspect, Is Nowise The Mind Acquainted With Its Strength; That Here The Sign Of Health Is Unconsciousness.

Fame, We May Understand, Is No Sure Test Of Merit, But Only A Probability Of Such; It Is An Accident, Not A Property Of Man.

Evil And Good Are Everywhere, Like Shadow And Substance; Inseparable (for Men) Yet Not Hostile, Only Opposed.

Contented Saturnine Human Figures, A Dozen Or So Of Them, Sitting Around A Large Long Table...perfect Equality Is To Be The Rule; No Rising Or Notice Taken When Anybody Enters Or Leaves. Let The Entering Man Take His Place And Pipe, Without Obligatory Remarks; If He Cannot Smoke...let Him At Least Affect To Do So, And Not Ruffle The Established Stream Of Things.

The Greatest Fault Is To Be Conscious Of None.

It Is A Strange Trade That Of Advocacy. Your Intellect, Your Highest Heavenly Gift Is Hung Up In The Shop Window Like A Loaded Pistol For Sale.

I Too Acknowledge The All-out Omnipotence Of Early Culture And Nature; Hereby We Have Either A Doddered Dwarf-bush, Or A High-towering, Wide-shadowing Tree! Either A Sick Yellow Cabbage, Or An Edible Luxuriant Green One. Of A Truth, It Is The Duty Of All Men, Especially Of All Philosophers, To Note Down With Accuracy The Characteristic Circumstances Of Their Education,--what Furthered, What Hindered, What In Any Way Modified It.

History Is Philosophy Teaching By Experience.

Imagination Is A Poor Matter When It Has To Part Company With Understanding.

The Greatest Of All Heroes Is One--whom We Do Not Name Here! Let Sacred Silence Meditate That Sacred Matter; You Will Find It The Ultimate Perfection Of A Principle Extant Throughout Man's Whole History On Earth.

Have Not I Myself Known Five Hundred Living Soldiers Sabred Into Crows' Meat For A Piece Of Glazed Cotton, Which They Call Their Flag; Which Had You Sold It At Any Market-cross, Would Not Have Brought Above Three Groschen?

A Good Book Is The Purest Essence Of A Human Soul.

Wise Man Was He Who Counselled That Speculation Should Have Free Course, And Look Fearlessly Towards All The Thirty-two Points Of The Compass, Whithersoever And Howsoever It Listed.

To The Wisest Man, Wide As Is His Vision. Nature Remains Of Quite Infinite Depth, Of Quite Infinite Expansion And All Experience Thereof Limits Itself To Some Few Computed Centuries And Measured Square Miles.

We Are To Remember What An Umpire Nature Is; What A Greatness, Composure Of Depth And Tolerance There Is In Her. You Take Wheat To Cast Into The Earth's Bosom; Your Wheat May Be Mixed With Chaff, Chopped Straw, Barn-sweepings, Dust And All Imaginable Rubbish; No Matter: You Cast It Into The Kind Just Earth; She Grows The Wheat, - The Whole Rubbish She Silently Absorbs, Shrouds It In, Says Nothing Of The Rubbish.

The Outer Passes Away; The Innermost Is The Same Yesterday, Today, And Forever.

He That Can Work Is Born To Be King Of Something.

No Man Is Born Without Ambitious Worldly Desires.

In The True Literary Man There Is Thus Ever, Acknowledged Or Not By The World, A Sacredness: He Is The Light Of The World; The World's Priest; -- Guiding It, Like A Sacred Pillar Of Fire, In Its Dark Pilgrimage Through The Waste Of Time.

Democracy Means Despair Of Finding Any Heroes To Govern You, And Contented Putting Up With The Want Of Them.

Writing Is A Dreadful Labor, Yet Not So Dreadful As Idleness.

Produce, Produce! Were It But The Pitifulest, Infinitesimal Fraction Of A Product, Produce It In God's Name. 'tis The Utmost Thou Hast In Thee? Out With It Then! Up, Up! Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To Do, Do It With Thy Whole Might.

A Witty Statesman Said, You Might Prove Anything By Figures.

It Were A Real Increase Of Human Happiness, Could All Young Men From The Age Of Nineteen Be Covered Under Barrels, Or Rendered Otherwise Invisible; And There Left To Follow Their Lawful Studies And Callings, Till They Emerged, Sadder And Wiser, At The Age Of Twenty-five.

In Books Lies The Soul Of The Whole Past Time; The Articulate Audible Voice Of The Past, When The Body And Material Substance Of It Has Altogether Vanished Like A Dream.

Teach A Parrot The Terms 'supply And Demand' And You've Got An Economist.

If You Do Not Wish A Man To Do A Thing, You Had Better Get Him To Talk About It; For The More Men Talk, The More Likely They Are To Do Nothing Else.

Clever Men Are Good, But They Are Not The Best.

A Man Perfects Himself By Working. Foul Jungles Are Cleared Away, Fair Seed-fields Rise Instead, And Stately Cities; And With The Man Himself First Ceases To Be A Jungle, And Foul Unwholesome Desert Thereby. The Man Is Now A Man.

They Have Their Belief, These Poor Tibet People, That Providence Sends Down Always An Incarnation Of Himself Into Every Generation. At Bottom Some Belief In A Kind Of Pope! At Bottom Still Better, A Belief That There Is A Greatest Man; That He Is Discoverable; That, Once Discovered, We Ought To Treat Him With An Obedience Which Knows No Bounds. This Is The Truth Of Grand Lamaism; The "discoverability" Is The Only Error Here.

A Collection Of Books Is The Best Of All Universities.

What Is All Knowledge Too But Recorded Experience, And A Product Of History; Of Which, Therefore, Reasoning And Belief, No Less Than Action And Passion, Are Essential Materials?

If Hero Means Sincere Man, Why May Not Every One Of Us Be A Hero?

The Actual Well Seen Is Ideal.

Nothing Ever Happens But Once In All This World. What I Do Now I Do Once For All. It Is Over And Gone, With All Its Eternity Of Solemn Meaning.

All That A University Or Final Highest School. Can Do For Us Is Still But What The First School Began Doing--teach Us To Read. We Learn To Read In Various Languages, In Various Sciences; We Learn The Alphabet And Letters Of All Manner Of Books. But The Place Where We Are To Get Knowledge, Even Theoretic Knowledge, Is The Books Themselves. It Depends On What We Read, After All Manner Of Professors Have Done Their Best For Us. The True University Of These Days Is A Collection Of Books.

Terror Itself, When Once Grown Transcendental, Becomes A Kind Of Courage; As Frost Sufficiently Intense, According To The Poet Milton, Will Burn.

He Who First Shortened The Labor Of Copyists By Device Of Movable Types Was Disbanding Hired Armies And Cashiering Most Kings And Senates, And Creating A Whole New Democratic World: He Had Invented The Art Of Printing.

As There Is No Danger Of Our Becoming, Any Of Us, Mahometans (i.e. Muslim), I Mean To Say All The Good Of Him I Justly Can.

The Person Who Cannot Laugh Is Not Only Ready For Treason, And Deceptions, Their Whole Life Is Already A Treason And Deception.

A Battle Is A Terrible Conjugation Of The Verb To Kill: I Kill, Thou Killest, He Kills, We Kill, They Kill, All Kill.

Experience Is The Best Of School Masters, Only The School Fees Are Heavy.

They Wrong Man Greatly Who Say He Is To Be Seduced By Ease. Difficulty, Abnegation, Martyrdom, Death Are The Allurements That Act On The Heart Of Man.

To The Mean Eye All Things Are Trivial, As Certainly As To The Jaundiced They Are Yellow.

The Purpose Of Man Is In Action Not Thought.

The Civil Authority, Or That Part Of It Which Remained Faithful To Their Trust And True To The Ends Of The Covenant, Did, In Answer To Their Consciences, Turn Out A Tyrant, In A Way Which The Christians In Aftertimes Will Mention With Honor, And All Tyrants In The World Look At With Fear.

Creation Is Great, And Cannot Be Understood.

Happy The People Whose Annals Are Blank In History Books!

I Grow Daily To Honour Facts More And More, And Theory Less And Less. A Fact, It Seems To Me, Is A Great Thing; A Sentence Printed, If Not By God, Then At Least By The Devil.

A Vein Of Poetry Exists In The Hearts Of All Men.

If A Man Was Great While Living, He Becomes Tenfold Greater When Dead.

If There Be Not A Religious Element In The Relations Of Men, Such Relations Are Miserable And Doomed To Ruin.

Such Is The World. Understand It, Despise It, Love It; Cheerfully Hold On Thy Way Through It, With Thy Eye On Highest Loadstars!

There Are Female Dandies As Well As Clothes-wearing Men; And The Former Are As Objectionable As The Latter.

Tell A Person They Are Brave And You Help Them Become So.

Freedom Is The One Purport, Wisely Aimed At, Or Unwisely, Of All Man's Struggles, Toilings And Sufferings, In This Earth.

It Is Not Honest Inquiry That Makes Anarchy; But It Is Error, Insincerity, Half Belief And Untruth That Make It.

Intellect Is The Soul Of Man, The Only Immortal Part Of Him.

Virtue Is Like Health: The Harmony Of The Whole Man.

Parliament Will Train You To Talk; And Above All Things To Hear, With Patience, Unlimited Quantities Of Foolish Talk.

The First Duty Of Man Is To Conquer Fear; He Must Get Rid Of It, He Cannot Act Till Then.

Every Man Is My Superior In That I May Learn From Him.

Armed Soldier, Terrible As Death, Relentless As Doom; Doing God's Judgement On The Enemies Of God. It Is A Phenomenon Not Of Joyful Nature; No, But Of Awful, To Be Looked At With Pious Terror And Awe.

No Iron Chain, Or Outward Force Of Any Kind, Can Ever Compel The Soul Of A Person To Believe Or To Disbelieve.

In Every Man's Writings, The Character Of The Writer Must Lie Recorded.

Perfect Ignorance Is Quiet, Perfect Knowledge Is Quiet; Not So The Transition From The Former To The Latter.

Metaphysics Is The Attempt Of The Mind To Rise Above The Mind.

No Man Sees Far, Most See No Farther Than Their Noses.

If What You Have Done Is Unjust, You Have Not Succeeded.

Wonderful Force Of Public Opinion! We Must Act And Walk In All Points As It Prescribes; Follow The Traffic It Bids Us, Realize The Sum Of Money, The Degree Of Influence It Expects Of Us, Or We Shall Be Lightly Esteemed; Certain Mouthfuls Of Articulate Wind Will Be Blown At Us, And This What Mortal Courage Can Front?

War Is A Quarrel Between Two Thieves Too Cowardly To Fight Their Own Battle; Therefore They Take Boys From One Village And Another Village, Stick Them Into Uniforms, Equip Them With Guns, And Let Them Loose Like Wild Beasts Against One Other.

No Sadder Proof Can Be Given By A Man Of His Own Littleness Than Disbelief In Great Men.

"love Is Not Altogether A Delirium," Says He Elsewhere; "yet Has It Many Points In Common Therewith."

Delirium Tremens

Piety Does Not Mean That A Man Should Make A Sour Face About Things, And Refuse To Enjoy In Moderation What His Maker Has Given.

I Had A Lifelong Quarrel With God, But In The End We Made Up.

We Have Not The Love Of Greatness, But The Love Of The Love Of Greatness.

Of A Truth, Men Are Mystically United: A Mystic Bond Of Brotherhood Makes All Men One.

Brotherhood Of Man

The Suffering Man Ought Really To Consume His Own Smoke; There Is No Good In Emitting Smoke Till You Have Made It Into Fire.

There Is No Life Of A Man, Faithfully Recorded, But Is A Heroic Poem Of Its Sort, Rhymed Or Unrhymed.

The Healthy Know Not Of Their Health, But Only The Sick: This Is The Physician's Aphorism, And Applicable In A Far Wider Sense Than He Gives It.

Society Is Founded On Hero-worship.

Enjoying Things Which Are Pleasant; That Is Not The Evil; It Is The Reducing Of Our Moral Self To Slavery By Them That Is.

There Is No Permanent Place In This Universe For Evil... Evil May Hide Behind This Fallacy And That, But It Will Be Hunted From Fallacy To Fallacy Until There Is No More Fallacy For It To Hide Behind.

No Violent Extreme Endures.

A Mind That Has Seen, And Suffered, And Done, Speaks To Us Of What It Has Tried And Conquered.

It Is Not A Lucky Word, This Name Impossible; No Good Comes Of Those Who Have It So Often In Their Mouths.

Just In Ratio As Knowledge Increases, Faith Diminishes.

We Have Profoundly Forgotten Everywhere That Cash-payment Is Not The Sole Relation Of Human Beings.

One Life; A Little Gleam Of Time Between Two Eternities; No Second Chance To Us For Evermore!

All Human Things Do Require To Have An Ideal In Them; To Have Some Soul In Them.

The Real Use Of Gunpowder Is To Make All Men Tall.

Nothing Builds Self-esteem And Self-confidence Like Accomplishment.

Statistics Is A Science Which Ought To Be Honourable, The Basis Of Many Most Important Sciences; But It Is Not To Be Carried On By Steam, This Science, Any More Than Others Are; A Wise Head Is Requisite For Carrying It On.

Cash-payment Never Was, Or Could Except For A Few Years Be, The Union-bond Of Man To Man. Cash Never Yet Paid One Man Fully His Deserts To Another; Nor Could It, Nor Can It, Now Or Henceforth To The End Of The World.

Misery Which, Through Long Ages, Had No Spokesman, No Helper, Will Now Be Its Own Helper And Speak For Itself.

A Great Man Shows His Greatness By The Way He Treats Little Men.

Might And Right Do Differ Frightfully From Hour To Hour, But Then Centuries To Try It In, They Are Found To Be Identical.

History Shows That The Majority Of People That Have Done Anything Great Have Passed Their Youth In Seclusion.

He Who Talks Much About Virtue In The Abstract, Begins To Be Suspected; It Is Shrewdly Guessed That Where There Is Great Preaching There Will Be Little Almsgiving.

Man Is, Properly Speaking, Based Upon Hope, He Has No Other Possession But Hope; This World Of His Is Emphatically The Place Of Hope.

Heroism Is The Divine Relation Which, In All Times, Unites A Great Man To Other Men.

A Laugh, To Be Joyous, Must Flow From A Joyous Heart, For Without Kindness, There Can Be No True Joy.

The Depth Of Our Despair Measures What Capability And Height Of Claim We Have To Hope.

The Dead Are All Holy, Even They That Were Base And Wicked While Alive. Their Baseness And Wickedness Was Not They, Was But The Heavy And Unmanageable Environment That Lay Round Them.

Whatsoever Thy Hand Findeth To Do, Do That With All Thy Might And Leave The Issues Calmly To God.

Speech Is Of Time, Silence Is Of Eternity.

No Ghost Was Every Seen By Two Pair Of Eyes.

Narrative Is Linear, But Action Has Breadth And Depth As Well As Height And Is Solid.

History, As It Lies At The Root Of All Science, Is Also The First Distinct Product Of Man's Spiritual Nature, His Earliest Expression Of What May Be Called Thought.

There Is A Great Discovery Still To Be Made In Literature, That Of Paying Literary Men By The Quantity They Do Not Write.

The Glory Of A Workman, Still More Of A Master Workman, That He Does His Work Well, Ought To Be His Most Precious Possession; Like The Honor Of A Soldier, Dearer To Him Than Life.

He That Has A Secret Should Not Only Hide It, But Hide That He Has It To Hide.

Love Is Ever The Beginning Of Knowledge As Fire Is Of Light.

O Heaven, It Is Mysterious, It Is Awful To Consider That We Not Only Carry Each A Future Ghost Within Him; But Are, In Very Deed, Ghosts!

A Star Is Beautiful; It Affords Pleasure, Not From What It Is To Do, Or To Give, But Simply By Being What It Is. It Befits The Heavens; It Has Congruity With The Mighty Space In Which It Dwells. It Has Repose; No Force Disturbs Its Eternal Peace. It Has Freedom; No Obstruction Lies Between It And Infinity.

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