Imagination is a licensed trespasser: it has no fear of dogs, but may climb over walls and peep in at windows with impunity. - George Eliot

Each day he wrought and better than he planned, Shape breeding shape beneath his restless hand. (The soul without still helps the soul within, And its deft magic ends what we begin.) Nay, in his dreams his hammer he would wield And seem to see a myriad types revealed, Then spring with wondering triumphant cry, And, lest the inspiring vision should go by, Would rush to labor with that plastic zeal Which all the passion of our life can steal For force to work with. Each day saw the birth Of various forms, which, flung upon the earth, Seemed harmless toys to cheat the exacting hour, But were as seeds instinct with hidden power.

Certain winds will make men's temper bad.

Cruelty, like every other vice, requires no motive outside of itself; it only requires opportunity.