Every Man I Meet Is In Some

There Is More Difference In The Quality Of Our Pleasures Than In The Amount.

Truth Has Already Ceased To Be Itself If Polemically Said.

The Reverence For The Deeds Of Our Ancestors Is A Treacherous Sentiment. Their Merit Was Not To Reverence The Old, But To Honor The Present Moment; And We Falsely Make Them Excuses Of The Very Habit Which They Hated And Defied.

Little Minds Have Little Worries, Big Minds Have No Time For Worries.

Society Will Pardon Much To Genius And Special Gifts; But, Being In Its Nature Conventional, It Loves What Is Conventional, Or What Belongs To Coming Together.