Edward Bulwer-Lytton
What a mistake to suppose that the passions are strongest in youth! The passions are not stronger, but the control over them is weaker! They are more easily excited, they are more violent and apparent; but they have less energy, less durability, less intense and concentrated power than in the maturer life.
Talent does what it can, Genius does what it must.
Every man who observes vigilantly, and resolves steadfastly, grows unconsciously into genius.
A life of pleasure makes even the strongest mind frivolous at last.
He who esteems trifles for themselves is a trifler; he who esteems them for the conclusions to be drawn from them, or the advantage to which they can be put, is a philosopher.
One of the sublimest things in the world is plain truth.
Beneath the rule of men entirely great,The pen is mightier than the sword.
The best teacher is the one who suggests rather than dogmatizes, and inspires his listener with the wish to teach himself.
Talk not of genius baffled, Genius is master of man. Genius does what it must, and talent does what it can.
Art and science have their meeting point in method.
The same refinement which brings us new pleasures, exposes us to new pains.
There is no such thing as luck. It's a fancy name for being always at our duty, and so sure to be ready when good time comes.
Refuse to be ill. Never tell people you are ill; never own it to yourself. Illness is one of those things which a man should resist on principle.
When people have no other tyrant, their own public opinion becomes one.
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents--except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness.
Alas! must it ever be so?Do we stand in our own light, wherever we go,And fight our own shadows forever?
Archaeology is not only the hand maid of history, it is also the conservator of art.
Destiny is but a phrase of the weak human heart - the dark apology for every error. The strong and virtuous admit no destiny. On earth conscience guides; in heaven God watches. And destiny is but the phantom we invoke to silence the one and dethrone the other.
"Know thyself," said the old philosopher, "improve thyself," saith the new. Our great object in time is not to waste our passions and gifts on the things external that we must leave behind, but that we cultivate within us all that we can carry into the eternal progress beyond.
