Infinite Is The Help Man Can Yield

Secrecy Is The Element Of All Goodness; Even Virtue, Even Beauty Is Mysterious.

Skepticism, As I Said, Is Not Intellectual Only; It Is Moral Also; A Chronic Atrophy And Disease Of The Whole Soul. A Man Lives By Believing Something; Not By Debating And Arguing About Many Things. A Sad Case For Him When All That He Can Manage To Believe Is Something He Can Button In His Pocket, And With One Or The Other Organ Eat And Digest! Lower Than That He Will Not Get.

The Man Who Cannot Wonder, Who Does Not Habitually Wonder (and Worship), Were He President Of Innumerable Royal Societies, And Carried The Whole Mecanique Celeste And Hegel's Philosophy, And The Epitome Of All Laboratories And Observatories With Their Results, In His Single Head, Is But A Pair Of Spectacles Behind Which There Is No Eye. Let Those Who Have Eyes Look Through Him, Then He May Be Useful.

A Force As Of Madness In The Hands Of Reason Has Done All That Was Ever Done In The World.

With Respect To Duels, Indeed, I Have My Own Ideas. Few Things In This So Surprising World Strike Me With More Surprise. Two Little Visual Spectra Of Men, Hovering With Insecure Enough Cohesion In The Midst Of The Unfathomable, And To Dissolve Therein, At Any Rate, Very Soon, Make Pause At The Distance Of Twelve Paces Asunder; Whirl Around, And Simultaneously By The Cunningest Mechanism, Explode One Another Into Dissolution; And, Offhand, Become Air, And Non-extant--the Little Spitfires!