If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years how man would marvel and adore.

The imitator dooms himself to hopeless mediocrity. The inventor did it, because it was natural to him, and so in him it has a charm. In the imitator, something else is natural, and he bereaves himself of his own beauty, to come short of another man's.

Culture with us ends in headache.

His heart was as great as the world but there was no room in it to hold the memory of a wrong.

Your actions speak so loudly, I cannot hear what you are saying.

Things are pretty, graceful, rich, elegant, handsome, but, until they speak to the imagination, not yet beautiful.