“Do we not all agree to call rapid thought and noble impulse by the name of inspiration?”

Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning; but give me the man who has the pluck to fight when he’s sure of losing.

We have had an unspeakably delightful journey, one of those journeys which seem to divide one’s life in two, by the new ideas they suggest and the new views of interest they open.

The world is full of hopeful analogies and handsome, dubious eggs, called possibilities.

Souls live on in perpetual echoes.

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it.

The thing we look forward to often comes to pass, but never precisely in the way we have imagined to ourselves.

These gems have life in them: their colors speak, say what words fail of.

… it is one thing to like defiance, and another thing to like its consequences.

But what we call our despair is often only the painful eagerness of unfed hope.

What are a handful of reasonable men against a crowd with stones in their hands?

An ass may bray a good while before he shakes the stars down.

I carry my unwritten poems in cipher on my face!

Our dead are never dead to us, until we have forgotten them.

There is a great deal of unmapped country within us.

Enveloped in a common mist, we seem to walk in clearness ourselves, and behold only the mist that enshrouds others.

Any coward can fight a battle when he’s sure of winning.

They who do not understand that a man may be brought to hope that which of all things is the most grievous to him, have not observed with sufficient closeness the perversity of the human mind.

Why, I say, do so few understand and apprehend the internal power?… He who in himself sees all things, is all things.

All through my twenties, I spent more time worrying what I didn’t have than thinking about what I did have. I wished that I was taller, had longer legs, slimmer hips, a smaller bottom, even straighter hair.

The United States’ credibility is at an all-time low. So, this war is against the interest of the Untied States.

I’m Mr Boring, not a party-goer at all.

If I could speak all the languages of earth and of angels, but didn’t love others, I would only be a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

Post-modernism has cut off the present from all futures. The daily media add to this by cutting off the past. Which means that critical opinion is often orphaned in the present.

He is in youth swift, pliant and merry, and leapeth and rusheth on all thing that is before him; and is lead by a staw and playeth there with.