Sublime

The chief English fault, especially in the nineteenth century, has been lack of decision, not only lack of decision in action, but lack of the equally essential decision in thought–which some call dogma.

A man reading the Dickens novel wished that it might never end.

Both the German professor and the green-faced savage seem to me to be doing the same thing—that is, falling under the influence of that starry impulse which leads men to take a vast deal of trouble about quite useless things.

But the real great man is the man who makes every man feel great.

He has no longer the wisdom of the uneducated man, who says what he thinks. He has begun to have too much of the knowledge of the half-educated man, who says what he thinks he ought to think.

What does Miss Pankhurst imagine a “rule” is—a sort of basilisk?

The Darwinians have this mark of fighters for a lost cause, that they are perpetually appealing to sentiment and to authority.