...is the child of ignorance.

...is like a book written in a dead language. It is not every one that can read in it.

...is the inheritance not of the dead, but of the living. It is we who look back with lofty pride to the great names of antiquity.

...are an incorrigible race. Give them but bugbears and idols - it is all that they ask; the distinctions of right and wrong, of truth and falsehood, of good and evil, are worse than indifferent to them.

...is the lowest of the virtues, and is a real confession of the deficiency it indicates. He who undervalues himself is justly undervalued by others.

...will do more than knowledge.

...to be near the sea, and to hear it roaring and raging like a wild beast in its den. It puts me in mind of the everlasting efforts of the human mind, struggling to be free, and ending just where it began.

...is an estate for life.

...envies only the player, the poet envies only the poet.