We Only Understand That Which Already Is

Time Is But The Measure Of The Difficulty Of A Conception. Pure Thought Has Scarcely Any Need Of Time, Since It Perceives The Two Ends Of An Idea Almost At The Same Moment.

Dreams Are Excursions Into The Limbo Of Things, A Semi-deliverance From The Human Prison.

He Who Is Too Much Afraid Of Being Duped Has Lost The Power Of Being Magnanimous.

When Everything Is In Its Right Place Within Us, We Ourselves Are In Balance With The Whole Work Of God.

I Have Never Felt Any Inward Assurance Of Genius, Or Any Presentiment Of Glory Or Of Happiness. I Have Never Seen Myself In Imagination Great Or Famous, Or Even A Husband, A Father, An Influential Citizen. This Indifference To The Future, This Absolute Self-distrust, Are, No Doubt, To Be Taken As Signs. What Dreams I Have Are All Vague And Indefinite; I Ought Not To Live, For I Am Now Scarcely Capable Of Living.