When I read some of the rules for speaking and writing the English language correctly, ... I think— Any fool can make a rule And every fool will mind it.
Love is a thirst that is never slaked.
If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.
It is strange that men will talk of miracles, revelation, inspiration, and the like, as things past, while love remains.
Every generation laughs at the old fashions, but follows religiously the new.
Ignorance and bungling with love are better than wisdom and skill without.
Some circumstantial evidence is very strong, as when you find a trout in the milk.
I suppose that what in other men is religion is in me love of nature.
The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation.
I love that one with whom I sympathise.
What men call social virtue, good fellowship, is commonly but the virtue of pigs in a litter, which lie close together to keep each other warm.
I love men with the same distinctions that I love women – as if my friend were of some third sex – some other or stranger and still my friend.