The Great End Of Being Is To

The Very Minute A Thought Is Threatened With Publicity It Seems To Shrink Towards Mediocrity.

The Ideas Of The Classics, So Far As Living, Are Our Commonplaces. It Is The Modern Books That Give Us The Latest And Most Profound Conceptions. It Seems To Me Rather A Lazy Makeshift To Mumble Over The Familiar.

Old Age Is Like An Opium Dream. Nothing Seems Real Except The Unreal.

Society Is Always Trying In Some Way To Grind Us Down To A Single Flat Surface.

Under Bad Manners, As Under Graver Faults, Lies Very Commonly An Overestimate Of Our Special Individuality, As Distinguished From Our Generic Humanity.