Every man is my superior in that I may learn from him.

There are depths in man that go to the lowest hell, and heights that reach the highest heaven, for are not both heaven and hell made out of him, everlasting miracle and mystery that he is.

Contented saturnine human figures, a dozen or so of them, sitting around a large long table...Perfect equality is to be the rule; no rising or notice taken when anybody enters or leaves. Let the entering man take his place and pipe, without obligatory remarks; if he cannot smoke...let him at least affect to do so, and not ruffle the established stream of things.

Statistics, one may hope, will improve gradually, and become good for something. Meanwhile, it is to be feared the crabbed satirist was partly right, as things go: "A judicious man," says he, "looks at Statistics, not to get knowledge, but to save himself from having ignorance foisted on him."

Is man’s civilization only a wrappage, through which the savage nature of him can still burst, infernal as ever?

The end of man is action.

Evil and good are everywhere, like shadow and substance; inseparable (for men) yet not hostile, only opposed.

The purpose of man is in action not thought.

Men do less than they ought, unless they do all that they can.