Others

Experience has two things to teach: the first, that we must correct a great deal; the second, that we must not correct too much.

To rest in the arms of perfection is the desire of any man intent upon creating excellence.

and sometimes even better than, the establishing of a new truth or fact.

Hearts are flowers; they remain open to the softly-falling dew, but shut up in the violent downpour of rain.

It is an easy thing for one whose foot Is on the outside of calamity to give advice.

The brain may take advice, but not the heart.

There is no such thing as “the Queen’s English.” The property has gone into the hands of a joint stock company and we own the bulk of the shares!

English, no longer an English language, now grows from many roots; and those whom it once colonized are carving out large territories within the language for themselves. The Empire is striking back.

I like to be beholden to the great metropolitan English speech, the sea which receives tributaries from every region under heaven.

Modern English is the Wal-Mart of languages: convenient, huge, hard to avoid, superficially friendly, and devouring all rivals in its eagerness to expand.

It is a language which is being molded by writers to do delicate things and yet be in the grasp of superficially educated people.

Eloquence is a painting of thought.

Eloquence is a painting of thought.

Shame on all eloquence which leaves us with a taste for itself and not for its substance.

Eloquence lies as much in the tone of the voice, in the eyes, and in the speaker’s manner, as in his choice of words.

Eloquence is feeling pouring itself to other minds, courting their sympathy.

Eloquence may set fire to reason.

Eloquence, when at its highest pitch, leaves little room for reason or reflection; but addressing itself entirely to the fancy or the affections, captivates the willing hearers, and subdues their understanding.

Eloquence is the power to translate a truth into language perfectly intelligible to the person to whom you speak.

What sculpture is to a block of marble, education is to an human soul.

Dreams are the true interpreters of our inclinations; but there is art required to sort and understand them.

The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest and most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego.

Dreams nourish the soul just as food nourishes the body.

Modest doubt is call’d the beacon of the wise.