“It seems that laughter needs an echo.”

Genius is that which forces the inertia of humanity to learn.

It is the very essence of intelligence to coordinate means with a view to a remote end, and to undertake what it does not feel absolutely sure of carrying out.

Realism is in the work when idealism is in the soul, and it is only through idealism that we resume contact with reality.

I would say act like a man of thought and think like a man of action.

To drive out the darkness, bring in the light.

An absolute can only be given in an intuition, while all the rest has to do with analysis.

The motive power of democracy is love.

It is emotion that drives the intelligence forward in spite of obstacles.

The movement of the stream is distinct from the river bed, although it must adopt its winding course.

Intuition is a method of feeling one’s way intellectually into the inner heart of a thing to locate what is unique and inexpressible in it.

Sex-appeal is the keynote of our whole civilization.

In short, intelligence, considered in what seems to be its original feature, is the faculty of manufacturing artificial objects, especially tools to make tools, and of indefinitely urging the manufacture.

You will obtain a vision of matter that is perhaps fatiguing for your imagination, but pure and stripped of what the requirements of life make you add to it in external perception.

Europe is overpopulated, the world will soon be in the same condition, and if the self-reproduction of man is not rationalized… we shall have war.

There is no greater joy than that of feeling oneself a creator. The triumph of life is expressed by creation.

To ease another’s burden, help to carry it.

A journal should be neither an echo nor a pander.

Sometimes the world seems like a big hole. You spend all your life shouting down it and all you hear are echoes of some idiot yelling nonsense down a hole.

It’s as if the border between the world and the print is osmotic.

An echo is a good way to describe the photogram, which is a visual echo of the real object

Yes there’s a lady that stands in a harbor for what we believe. And there’s a bell that still echoes the price that it cost to be free.

Yes! in the sea of life enisled, With echoing straits between us thrown, Dotting the shoreless watery wild, We mortal millions live alone.

Virtue is no empty echo.

Poetry is news brought to the mountains by a unicorn and an echo.