The maker of a sentence launches out into the infinite and builds a road into Chaos and old Night, and is followed by those who hear him with somethi… - Ralph Waldo Emerson

Traveling is a fool's paradise. Our first journeys discover to us the indifference of places. At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty, and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from. I seek the Vatican, and the palaces. I affect to be intoxicated with sights and suggestions, but I am not intoxicated. My giant goes with me wherever I go.

Common sense is genius dressed in its working clothes.

All that Shakespeare says of the king, yonder slip of a boy that reads in the corner feels to be true of himself.