Stay is a charming word in a friend's vocabulary.
Good books, like good friends, are few and chosen; the more select, the more enjoyable.
It is refreshing, amidst the inane common-places bandied in pulpits and parlors, to hear a hopeful word from an earnest, upright soul.
Enduring fame is ever posthumous. The orbs of virtue and genius seldom culminate during their terrestrial periods.
The seraphs descend from heaven, in the solitudes of meditation, in the stillness of prayer.
Cruelty stares at me from the butcher's face. I tread amidst carcasses. I am in the presence of the slain. The death-set eyes of beasts peer at me and accuse me of belonging to the race of murderers. Quartered, disembowelled creatures on suspended hooks plead with me. I feel myself dispossessed of the divinity.
Conceive of slaughter and flesh-eating in Eden.
In the theocracy of the soul majorities do not rule. God and the saints; against them the rabble of sinners, with clamorous voices and uplifted hand, striving to silence the oracle of the private heart. Beelzebub marshals majorities. Prophets and reformers are always special enemies of his and his minions. Multitudes ever lie. Every age is a Judas, and betrays its Messiahs into the hands of the
multitude. The voice of the private, not popular heart, is alone authentic.
Nur wenige können diskutieren. Die meisten streiten nur.