The uttered part of a man's life, let us always repeat, bears to the unuttered, unconscious part a small unknown proportion. He himself never knows it, much less do others.

All greatness is unconscious, or it is little and naught.

It can be said of him [Scott], when he departed he took a man's life along with him. No sounder piece of British manhood was put together in that eighteenth ce…

Literature is the Thought of thinking Souls.

Presque tous les hommes ressemblent a ces grands palais deserts dont le proprietaire n'habite que quelques pieces; et il ne penetre jamais danss les ailes cond…

You know nothing about me at all. Which is almost certainly true. I know nothing about you. No one knows anything about you.

Man knows that love is, but not what it is.