In criticism I will be bold, and as sternly, absolutely just with friend and foe. From this purpose nothing shall turn me.
I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect - in terror.
I am above the weakness of seeking to establish a sequence of cause and effect, between the disaster and the atrocity.
As an individual, I myself feel impelled to fancy a limitless succession of Universes. Each exists, apart and independently, in the bosom of its proper and particular God.
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
There are few cases in which mere popularity should be considered a proper test of merit; but the case of song-writing is, I think, one of the few.
The rudiment of verse may, possibly, be found in the spondee.
The generous Critic fann'd the Poet's fire, And taught the world with reason to admire.
That pleasure which is at once the most pure, the most elevating and the most intense, is derived, I maintain, from the contemplation of the beautiful.
Of puns it has been said that those who most dislike them are those who are least able to utter them.
It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.
In one case out of a hundred a point is excessively discussed because it is obscure; in the ninety-nine remaining it is obscure because it is excessively discussed.
I have no faith in human perfectability. I think that human exertion will have no appreciable effect upon humanity. Man is now only more active - not more happy - nor more wise, than he was 6000 years ago.
Experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of the truth arises from the seemingly irrelevant.
A strong argument for the religion of Christ is this - that offences against Charity are about the only ones which men on their death-beds can be made - not to understand - but to feel - as crime.
Were I called on to define, very briefly, the term Art, I should call it 'the reproduction of what the Senses perceive in Nature through the veil of the soul.' The mere imitation, however accurate, of what is in Nature, entitles no man to the sacred name of 'Artist.'
To be thoroughly conversant with a man's heart, is to take our final lesson in the iron-clasped volume of despair.
That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward.
To vilify a great man is the readiest way in which a little man can himself attain greatness.
It may well be doubted whether human ingenuity can construct an enigma - which human ingenuity may not, by proper application, resolve.
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends and where the other begins?
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
There is something in the unselfish and self-sacrificing love of a brute, which goes directly to the heart of him who has had frequent occasion to test the paltry friendship and gossamer fidelity of mere Man.