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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.

-Thomas Carlyle

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Let One Who Wants

Thomas Carlyle

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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.

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Everywhere In Life, The True Question Is Not What We Gain, But What We Do.

The First Purpose Of Clothes... Was Not Warmth Or Decency, But Ornament.... Among Wild People, We Find Tattooing And Painting Even Prior To Clothes. The First Spiritual Want Of A Barbarous Man Is Decoration; As Indeed We Still See Among The Barbarous Classes In Civilized Countries.

Without Kindness There Can Be No True Joy.

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

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

Happy Season Of Childhood! Kind Nature, That Art To All A Bountiful Mother; That Visitest The Poor Man's Hut With Auroral Radiance; And For Thy Nursling Hast Provided A Soft Swathing Of Love And Infinite Hope Wherein He Waxes And Slumbers, Danced Round By Sweetest Dreams!

Laughter Means Sympathy.

So Much Of Truth, Only Under An Ancient Obsolete Vesture, But The Spirit Of It Still True, Do I Find In The Paganism Of Old Nations. Nature Is Still Divine, The Revelation Of The Workings Of God; The Hero Is Still Worshipable: This, Under Poor Cramped Incipient Forms, Is What All Pagan Religions Have Struggled, As They Could, To Set Forth.

The Best Lesson Which We Get From The Tragedy Of Karbala Is That Husain And His Companions Were Rigid Believers In God. They Illustrated That The Numerical Superiority Does Not Count When It Comes To The Truth And The Falsehood. The Victory Of Husain, Despite His Minority, Marvels Me!

Speech Is Silver, Silence Is Golden.

Teaching School Is But Another Word For Sure And Not Very Slow Destruction.

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

Instead Of Saying That Man Is The Creature Of Circumstance, It Would Be Nearer The Mark To Say That Man Is The Architect Of Circumstance. It Is Character Which Builds An Existence Out Of Circumstance. From The Same Materials One Man Builds Palaces, Another Hovels; One Warehouses, Another Villas; Bricks And Mortar Are Mortar And Bricks Until The Architect Can Make Them Something Else.

Bricks And Mortar

No Nobler Feeling Than This, Of Admiration For One Higher Than Himself, Dwells In The Breast Of Man. It Is To This Hour, And At All Hours, The Vivifying Influence In Man's Life.

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.

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

The Greatest Mistake Is To Imagine That We Never Err.

Be Not A Slave Of Words.

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.

When New Turns Of Behavior Cease To Appear In The Life Of The Individual, Its Behavior Ceases To Be Intelligent.

Love Not Pleasure; Love God. This Is The Everlasting Yea, Wherein All Contradiction Is Solved.

Great Is Wisdom; Infinite Is The Value Of Wisdom. It Cannot Be Exaggerated; It Is The Highest Achievement Of Man.

Experience Takes Dreadfully High School-wages, But He Teaches Like No Other.

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?

What I Loved In The Man Was His Health, His Unity With Himself; All People And All Things Seemed To Find Their Quite Peaceable Adjustment With Him, Not A Proud Domineering One, As After Doubtful Contest, But A Spontaneous-looking Peaceable, Even Humble One.

It Is The Feeling Of Injustice That Is Insupportable To All Men.

Battles, In These Ages, Are Transacted By Mechanism; With The Slightest Possible Development Of Human Individuality Or Spontaneity; Men Now Even Die, And Kill One Another, In An Artificial Manner.

The Actual Well Seen Is Ideal.

A Background Of Wrath, Which Can Be Stirred Up To The Murderous Infernal Pitch, Does Lie In Every Man.

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.

The Word Of Mohammad Is A Voice Direct From Nature's Own Heart - All Else Is Wind In Comparison.

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

Have A Purpose In Life, And Having It, Throw Into Your Work Such Strength Of Mind And Muscle As God Has Given You.

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.

Necessity Dispenseth With Decorum.

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

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!

History Is Philosophy Teaching By Experience.

All Work Is As Seed Sown; It Grows And Spreads, And Sows Itself Anew.

All Reform Except A Moral One Will Prove Unavailing.

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

Is Not Cant The Materia Prima Of The Devil, From Which All Falsehoods, Imbecilities, Abominations, Body Themselves, From Which No True Thing Can Come? For Cant Is Itself The Properly A Double-distilled Lie, The Second Power Of A Lie.

Success In Life, In Anything, Depends Upon The Number Of Persons That One Can Make Himself Agreeable To.

Success In Life

O Thou Who Art Able To Write A Book Which Once In The Two Centuries Or Oftener There Is A Man Gifted To Do, Envy Not Him Whom They Name City-builder, And Inexpressibly Pity Him Whom They Name Conqueror Or City-burner.

It Is No Very Good Symptom, Either Of Nations Or Individuals, That They Deal Much In Vaticination. Happy Men Are Full Of The Present, For Its Bounty Suffices Them; And Wise Men Also, For Its Duties Engage Them. Our Grand Business Undoubtedly Is Not To See What Lies Dimly At A Distance, But To Do What Clearly Lies At Hand.

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.

The Authentic Insight And Experience Of Any Human Soul, Were It But Insight And Experience In Hewing Of Wood And Drawing Of Water, Is Real Knowledge, A Real Possession And Acquirement.

Music... A Kind Of Inarticulate, Unfathomable Speech, Which Leads To The Edge Of The Infinite.

Oh, Give Us The Man Who Sings At His Work.

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.

Skepticism Means, Not Intellectual Doubt Alone, But Moral Doubt.

All True Work Is Sacred.

The Best Effect Of Any Book Is That It Excites The Reader To Self Activity.

What Is Philosophy But A Continual Battle Against Custom?

What You See, But Can't See Over Is As Good As Infinite.

Let A Man Try Faithfully, Manfully To Be Right; He Will Grow Daily More And More Right. It Is At Bottom The Condition On Which All Men Have To Cultivate Themselves.

An Everlasting Lodestar, That Beams The Brighter In The Heavens The Darker Here On Earth Grows The Night.

Hero-worship Is The Deepest Root Of All; The Tap-root, From Which In A Great Degree All The Rest Were Nourished And Grown . . . Worship Of A Hero Is Transcendent Admiration Of A Great Man. I Say Great Men Are Still Admirable; I Say There Is, At Bottom, Nothing Else Admirable! No Nobler Feeling Than This Of Admiration For One Higher Than Himself Dwells In The Breast Of Men.

Cease To Brag To Me Of America, And Its Model Institutions And Constitutions. America, Too, Will Have To Strain Its Energies, Crack Its Sinews, And All But Break Its Heart, As The Rest Of Us Have Had To Do, In Thousand-fold Wrestle With The Pythons, And Mud-demons, Before It Can Become A Babitation For The Gods.

Whose School-hours Are All The Days And Nights Of Our Existence.

A Man Ought To Inquire And Find Out What He Really And Truly Has An Appetite For; What Suits His Constitution; And That, Doctors Tell Him, Is The Very Thing He Ought To Have In General. And So With Books.

The Eye Of The Intellect "sees In All Objects What It Brought With It The Means Of Seeing."

Courtesy Is The Due Of Man To Man; Not Of Suit-of-clothes To Suit-of-clothes.

When I Gaze Into The Stars, They Look Down Upon Me With Pity From Their Serene And Silent Spaces, Like Eyes Glistening With Tears Over The Little Lot Of Man. Thousands Of Generations, All As Noisy As Our Own, Have Been Swallowed Up By Time, And There Remains No Record Of Them Any More. Yet Arcturus And Orion, Sirius And Pleiades, Are Still Shining In Their Courses, Clear And Young, As When The Shepherd First Noted Them In The Plain Of Shinar!

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

Doubt Of Any Kind Cannot Be Resolved Except By Action.

The Grand Result Of Schooling Is A Mind With Just Vision To Discern, With Free Force To Do: The Grand Schoolmaster Is Practice.

The True Epic Of Our Times Is Not "arm's And The Man," But "tools And The Man"--an Infinitely Wider Kind Of Epic.

We Are Not Altogether Here To Tolerate. We Are Here To Resist, To Control And Vanquish Withal.

Clean Undeniable Right, Clear Undeniable Might: Either Of These Once Ascertained Puts An End To Battle. All Battle Is A Confused Experiment To Ascertain One And Both Of These.

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

Laws, Written, If Not On Stone Tables, Yet On The Azure Of Infinitude, In The Inner Heart Of God's Creation, Certain As Life, Certain As Death, Are There, And Thou Shalt Not Disobey Them.

In A Symbol There Is Concealment And Yet Revelation: Here Therefore, By Silence And By Speech Acting Together, Comes A Double Significance.

To Say That We Have A Clear Conscience Is To Utter A Solecism; Had We Never Sinned We Should Have Had No Conscience. Were Defeat Unknown, Neither Would Victory Be Celebrated By Songs Of Triumph.

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.

Evil, Once Manfully Fronted, Ceases To Be Evil; There Is Generous Battle-hope In Place Of Dead, Passive Misery; The Evil Itself Has Become A Kind Of Good.

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

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

Prayer Is And Remains Always A Native And Deepest Impulse Of The Soul Of Man.

The Weakest Living Creature, By Concentrating His Powers On A Single Object, Can Accomplish Something. The Strongest, By Dispensing His Over Many, May Fail To Accomplish Anything. The Drop, By Continually Falling, Bores Its Passage Through The Hardest Rock. The Hasty Torrent Rushes Over It With Hideous Uproar, And Leaves No Trace Behind.

The Age Of Miracles Is Forever Here.

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

Egotism Is The Source And Summary Of All Faults And Miseries.

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

Man's Unhappiness, As I Construe, Comes Of His Greatness; It Is Because There Is An Infinite In Him, Which With All His Cunning He Cannot Quite Bury Under The Finite.

Foolish Men Imagine That Because Judgment For An Evil Thing Is Delayed, There Is No Justice; But Only Accident Here Below. Judgment For An Evil Thing Is Many Times Delayed Some Day Or Two, Some Century Or Two, But It Is Sure As Life, It Is Sure As Death.

Why Multiply Instances? It Is Written, The Heavens And The Earth Shall Fade Away Like A Vesture; Which Indeed They Are: The Time-vesture Of The Eternal. Whatsoever Sensibly Exists, Whatsoever Represents Spirit To Spirit, Is Properly A Clothing, A Suit Of Raiment, Put On For A Season, And To Be Laid Off. Thus In This One Pregnant Subject Of Clothes, Rightly Understood, Is Included All That Men Have Thought, Dreamed, Done, And Been: The Whole External Universe And What It Holds Is But Clothing; And The Essence Of All Science Lies In The Philosophy Of Clothes.

Labor, Wide As The Earth, Has Its Summit In Heaven.

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

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

A Man Protesting Against Error Is On The Way Towards Uniting Himself With All Men That Believe In Truth.

Man Makes Circumstances, And Spiritually As Well As Economically, Is The Artificer Of His Own Fortune.

Authors Are The Vanguard In The March Of Mind, The Intellectual Backwoodsmen, Reclaiming From The Idle Wilderness New Territories For The Thought And Activity Of Their Happier Brethren.

The Highest Being Reveals Himself In Man.

There Must Be A New World If There Is To Be Any World At All!... These Days Of Universal Death Must Be Days Of Universal New Birth, If The Ruin Is Not To Be Total And Final! It Is Time To Make The Dullest Man Consider; And Ask Himself, Whence He Came? Whither He Is Bound?

Blessed Be The God's Voice; For It Is True, And Falsehoods Have To Cease Before It!

Government Is Emphatically A Machine: To The Discontented A Taxing Machine, To The Contented A Machine For Securing Property.

What, In The Devil's Name, Is The Use Of Respectability, With Never So Many Gigs And Silver Spoons, If Thou Inwardly Art The Pitifulness Of All Men?

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

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

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.

The Errors Of A Wise Man Are Literally More Instructive Than The Truths Of A Fool. The Wise Man Travels In Lofty, Far-seeing Regions; The Fool In Low-lying, High-fenced Lanes; Retracing The Footsteps Of The Former, To Discover Where He Diviated, Whole Provinces Of The Universe Are Laid Open To Us; In The Path Of The Latter, Granting Even That He Has Not Deviated At All, Little Is Laid Open To Us But Two Wheel-ruts And Two Hedges.

The Difference Between Socrates And Jesus? The Great Conscious And The Immeasurably Great Unconscious.

By Nature Man Hates Change; Seldom Will He Quit His Old Home Till It Has Actually Fallen Around His Ears.

Men Worship The Shows Of Great Men; The Most Disbelieve That There Is Any Reality Of Great Men To Worship.

The Genuine Essence Of Truth Never Dies.

A Man Willing To Work, And Unable To Find Work, Is Perhaps The Saddest Sight That Fortune's Inequality Exhibits Under This Sun.

Look To Be Treated By Others As You Have Treated Others.

To The Vulgar Eye, Few Things Are Wonderful That Are Not Distant

The Meaning Of Song Goes Deep. Who In Logical Words Can Explain The Effect Music Has On Us? A Kind Of Inarticulate, Unfathomable Speech, Which Leads Us To The Edge Of The Infinite, And Lets Us For A Moment Gaze Into That!

A Man Perfects Himself By Working.

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

Culture Is The Process By Which A Person Becomes All That They Were Created Capable Of Being.

That Great Mystery Of Time, Were There No Other; The Illimitable, Silent, Never-resting Thing Called Time, Rolling, Rushing On, Swift, Silent, Like An All-embracing Ocean Tide, On Which We And All The Universe Swim Like Exhalations, Like Apparitions Which Are, And Then Are Not: This Is Forever Very Literally A Miracle; A Thing To Strike Us Dumb,-for We Have No Word To Speak About It.

Rest Is For The Dead.

In The Huge Mass Of Evil As It Rolls And Swells, There Is Ever Some Good Working Toward Deliverance And Triumph.

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.

Also, What Mountains Of Dead Ashes, Wreck And Burnt Bones, Does Assiduous Pedantry Dig Up From The Past Time And Name It History.

True Humor Springs Not More From The Head Than From The Heart. It Is Not Contempt; Its Essence Is Love. It Issues Not In Laughter, But In Still Smiles, Which Lie Far Deeper.

He Who Takes Not Counsel Of The Unseen And Silent, From Him Will Never Come Real Visibility And Speech.

One Monster There Is In The World, The Idle Man.

Not What I Have, But What I Do Is My Kingdom.

There Are Remedies For All Things But Death.

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

The Dust Of Controversy Is Merely The Falsehood Flying Off.

Show Me The Man You Honor; I Know By That Symptom, Better Than By Any Other, What Kind Of Man You Yourself Are. For You Show Me There What Your Ideal Of Manhood Is; What Kind Of Man You Long Inexpressibly To Be.

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.

Variety Is The Condition Of Harmony.

The Past Is All Holy To Us; The Dead Are All Holy; Even They That Were Wicked When Alive.

Respectable Professors Of The Dismal Science.

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

The Fine Arts Once Divorcing Themselves From Truth Are Quite Certain To Fall Mad, If They Do Not Die.

Every Man Has A Coward And Hero In His Soul.

In A Certain Sense All Men Are Historians.

The True Sovereign Of The World, Who Moulds The World Like Soft Wax, According To His Pleasure, Is He Who Lovingly Sees Into The World.

Just In Ratio As Knowledge Increases, Faith Diminishes.

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

If An Eloquent Speaker Speak Not The Truth, Is There A More Horrid Kind Of Object In Creation?

Providence Has Given To The French The Empire Of The Land, To The English That Of The Sea, To The Germans That Of--the Air!

Long Stormy Spring-time, Wet Contentious April, Winter Chilling The Lap Of Very May; But At Length The Season Of Summer Does Come.

Music Is Well Said To Be The Speech Of Angels.

If Jesus Christ Were To Come Today, People Would Not Even Crucify Him. They Would Ask Him To Dinner, And Hear What He Had To Say, And Make Fun Of It.

The Scandalous Bronze-lacquer Age Of Hungry Animalisms, Spiritual Impotences, And Mendacities, Will Have To Run Its Course, Till The Pit Follow It.

France Was Long A Despotism Tempered By Epigrams.

Acorns Are Planted Silently By Some Unnoticed Breeze.

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

Stern Accuracy In Inquiring, Bold Imagination In Describing, These Are The Cogs On Which History Soars Or Flutters And Wobbles.

History Is A Mighty Dramos, Enacted Upon The Theatre Of Times, With Suns For Lamps And Eternity For A Background.

Endurance Is Patience Concentrated.

The First Duty Of Man Is That Of Subduing Fear.

To Reform A World, To Reform A Nation, No Wise Man Will Undertake; And All But Foolish Men Know, That The Only Solid, Though A Far Slower Reformation, Is What Each Begins And Perfects On Himself.

O Poor Mortals, How Ye Make This Earth Bitter For Each Other.

Hunger Whets Everything, Especially Suspicion And Indignation.

No Violent Extreme Endures.

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.

For, Strictly Considered, 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?

Silence Is More Eloquent Than Words.

The Great Man's Sincerity Is Of The Kind He Cannot Speak Of, Is Not Conscious Of: Nay, I Suppose, He Is Conscious Rather Of Insincerity; For What Man Can Walk Accurately By The Law Of Truth For One Day? No, The Great Man Does Not Boast Himself Sincere, Far From That; Perhaps Does Not Ask Himself If He Is So: I Would Say Rather, His Sincerity Does Not Depend On Himself; He Cannot Help Being Sincere!

Doubt, Of Whatever Kind, Can Be Ended By Action Alone.

Debt Is A Bottomless Sea.

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

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.

It Is A Mathematical Fact That The Casting Of This Pebble From My Hand Alters The Centre Of Gravity Of The Universe.

Humor Has Justly Been Regarded As The Finest Perfection Of Poetic Genius.

Why Did Not Somebody Teach Me The Constellations, And Make Me At Home In The Starry Heavens, Which Are Always Overhead, And Which I Don't Half Know To This Day?

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

O Thou Who Art Able To Write A Book, Which Once In The Two Centuries Or Oftener There Is A Man Gifted To Do, Envy Not Him Whom They Name City-builder, And Inexpressibly Pity Him Whom They Name Conqueror Or City-burner! Thou Too Art A Conqueror And Victor; But Of The True Sort, Namely Over The Devil: Thou Too Hast Built What Will Outlast All Marble And Metal, And Be A Wonder-bringing City Of The Mind, A Temple And Seminary And Prophetic Mount, Whereto All Kindreds Of The Earth Will Pilgrim.

They Only Are Wise Who Know That They Know Nothing.

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

The Eternal Stars Shine Out Again, So Soon As It Is Dark Enough.

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

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.

The Insignificant, The Empty, Is Usually The Loud; And After The Manner Of A Drum, Is Louder Even Because Of Its Emptiness.

The Purpose Of Man Is In Action Not Thought.

There Is In Man A Higher Than Love Of Happiness; He Can Do Without Happiness, And Instead Thereof Find Blessedness.

All Human Souls, Never So Bedarkened, Love Light; Light Once Kindled Spreads Till All Is Luminous.

Skepticism . . . Is Not Intellectual Only It Is Moral Also, A Chronic Atrophy And Disease Of The Whole Soul.

We Have Not Read An Author Till We Have Seen His Object, Whatever It May Be, As He Saw It.

In This World There Is One Godlike Thing, The Essence Of All That Was Or Ever Will Be Of Godlike In This World: The Veneration Done To Human Worth By The Hearts Of Men.

Eyes Bright, With Many Tears, Behind Them.

Beautiful It Is, And A Gleam From The Same Eternal Pole-star Visible Amid The Destinies Of Men, That All Talent, All Intellect, Is In The First Plane Moral. What A World Were This Otherwise!

Do Nothing, Only Keep Agitating, Debating; And Things Will Destroy Themselves.

The Vulgarity Of Inanimate Things Requires Time To Get Accustomed To; But Living, Breathing, Bustling, Plotting, Planning, Human Vulgarity Is A Species Of Moral Ipecacuanha, Enough To Destroy Any Comfort.

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

A Man Must Indeed Be A Hero To Appear Such In The Eyes Of His Valet.

When Pococke Inquired Of Grotius, Where The Proof Was Of That Story Of The Pigeon, Trained To Pick Peas From Mahomet's (muhammad's) Ear, And Pass For An Angel Dictating To Him? Grotius Answered That There Was No Proof!

Man Is A Tool-using Animal. Without Tools He Is Nothing, With Tools He Is All.

Speech Is Human, Silence Is Divine, Yet Also Brutish And Dead: Therefore We Must Learn Both Arts.

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.

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

A Frightful Dialect For The Stupid, The Pedant And Dullard Sort.

The English Are A Dumb People. They Can Do Great Acts, But Not Describe Them.

The Steam-engine I Call Fire-demon And Great; But It Is Nothing To The Invention Of Fire.

Pain Was Not Given Thee Merely To Be Miserable Under; Learn From It, Turn It To Account.

No Age Seemed The Age Of Romance To Itself.

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

Except By Name, Jean Paul Friedrich Richter Is Little Known Out Of Germany. The Only Thing Connected With Him, We Think, That Has Reached This Country Is His Saying,-imported By Madame De Staël, And Thankfully Pocketed By Most Newspaper Critics,-"providence Has Given To The French The Empire Of The Land; To The English That Of The Sea; To The Germans That Of-the Air!" Richter: German Humorist & Prose Writer.

No Man Who Has Once Heartily And Wholly Laughed Can Be Altogether Irreclaimably Bad.

Macaulay Is Well For Awhile, But One Wouldn't Live Under Niagara.

For Every One Hundred Men Who Can Stand Adversity There Is Only One Who Can Withstand Prosperity.

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