Novels so often provide an anodyne and not an antidote, glide one into >>
If we didn't live adventurously, plucking the wild goat by the beard, >>
Where the Mind is biggest, the Heart, the Senses, Magnanimity, Charity >>
For all have not the gift of martyrdom. >>
I know of no country in which there is so little independence of mind >>
The American ideal, after all, is that everyone should be as much alik >>
Once conform, once do what other people do because they do it, and a lethargy steals over all the finer nerves and faculties of the soul. She becomes all outer show and inward emptiness; dull, callous, and indifferent.