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It is the nature of truth in general, as of some ores in particular, to be richest when most superficial.
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.
The nose of a mob is its imagination. By this, at any time, it can be quietly led.
Science has not yet taught us if madness is or is not the sublimity of the intelligence.
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.
All religion, my friend, is simply evolved out of fraud, fear, greed, imagination, and poetry.
Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality.
I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of Beauty.
With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.
Poetry is the rhythmical creation of beauty in words.