Ralph Waldo Emerson

But the lightning which explodes and fashions planets, maker of planets and suns, is in him. On one side elemental order, sandstone and granite, rock-ledges, peat-bog, forest, sea and shore; and on the other part, thought, the spirit which composes and decomposes nature.

People wish to be settled. It is only as far as they are unsettled that there is any hope for them.

The torpid artist seeks inspiration at any cost, by virtue or by vice, by friend or by fiend, by prayer or by wine.

A few strong instincts and a few plain rules suffice us.

The essence of greatness is the perception that virtue is enough.

Whatever limits us we call fate.

In human intercourse the tragedy begins, not when there is misunderstanding about words, but when silence is not understood.

Would not love see returning penitence afar off, and fall on its neck and kiss it?

The rain comes and what bends will rise. It is a purposeful journey.

There is a difference between being convinced and being stubborn.

No matter how carefully you plan your goals they will never be more than pipe dreams unless you pursue them with gusto.

Necessity does everything well.

The only place success comes before work is in the dictionary.

You perceive I generalize with intrepidity from single instances. It is the tourist’s custom.

Today is a king in disguise.

Out of Plato come all things that are still written and debated about among men of thought.

Count on it, if a person talks of their misfortune, there is something in it that is not disagreeable to them.

One isn’t necessarily born with courage, but one is born with potential. Without courage, we cannot practice any other virtue with consistency. We can’t be kind, true, merciful, generous, or honest.

Dying is a troublesome business: there is pain to be suffered, and it wrings one’s heart; but death is a splendid thing –a warfare accomplished, a beginning all over again, a triumph. You can always see that in their faces.

The perception of the comic is a tie of sympathy with other men, a pledge of sanity, and a protection from those perverse tendencies and gloomy insanities in which fine intellects sometimes lose themselves. A rogue alive to the ludicrous is still convertible. If that sense is lost, his fellow-men can do little for him.

The German intellect wants the French sprightliness, the fine practical understanding of the English, and the American adventure; but it has a certain probity, which never rests in a superficial performance, but asks steadily, To what end? A German public asks for a controlling sincerity.