» But the child's sob curses deeper in the silence than the strong man in his wrath!
» The world's male chivalry has perished out, but women are knights-errant to the last; and, if Cervantes had been greater still, he had made his Don a Donna.
» A woman's always younger than a man at equal years.
» What is art but life upon the larger scale, the higher. When, graduating up in a spiral line of still expanding and ascending gyres, it pushes toward the intense significance of all things, hungry for the infinite?
» The beautiful seems right by force of beauty, and the feeble wrong because of weakness.
» Books succeed, and lives fail.
» Books, books, books had found the secret of a garret-room piled high with cases in my father's name; Piled high, packed large, --where, creeping in and out among the giant fossils of my past, like some small nimble mouse between the ribs of a mastodon, I nibbled here and there at this or that box, pulling through the gap, in heats of terror, haste, victorious joy, the first book first. And how I felt it beat under my pillow, in the morning's dark. An hour before the sun would let me read! My books!
» Experience, like a pale musician, holds a dulcimer of patience in his hand.
» For 'Tis not in mere death that men die most.
» What monster have we here? A great Deed at this hour of day? A great just deed -- and not for pay? Absurd -- or insincere?