Vehemence Without Feeling Is But Rant.

No Deeply Rooted Tendency Was Ever Extirpated By Adverse Judgment. Not Having Originally Been Founded On Argument, It Cannot Be Destroyed By Logic.

The Selective Instinct Of The Artist Tells Him When His Language Should Be Homely, And When It Should Be More Elevated; And It Is Precisely In The Imperceptible Blending Of The Plain With The Ornate That A Great Writer Is Distinguished. He Uses The Simplest Phrases Without Triviality, And The Grandest Without A Suggestion Of Grandiloquence.

If The Members Of A Class Do Not Understand -- If Those Directly Addressed Fail To Listen, Or Listening, Fail To Recognize A Power In The Voice -- Surely The Fault Lies With The Speaker, Who, Having Attempted To Secure Their Attention And Enlighten Their Understandings, Has Failed In The Attempt.

Metaphysical Ghosts Cannot Be Killed, Because They Cannot Be Touched; But They May Be Dispelled By Dispelling The Twilight In Which Shadows And Solidities Are Easily Confounded. The Vital Principle Is An Entity Of This Ghostly Kind; And Although The Daylight Has Dissipated It, And Positive Biology Is No Longer Vexed With Its Visitations, It Nevertheless Reappears In Another Shape In The Shadowy Region Of Mystery Which Surrounds Biological And All Other Questions.

Literature Is At Once The Cause And The Effect Of Social Progress. It Deepens Our Natural Sensibilities, And Strengthens By Exercise Our Intellectual Capacities. It Stores Up The Accumulated Experience Of The Race, Connecting Past And Present Into A Conscious Unity; And With This Store It Feeds Successive Generations, To Be Fed In Turn By Them.