The platform of an Ethical Society is itself the altar; the address must be the fire that burns thereon.
Rich kids work hard. Most black kids aren’t working hard enough.
There are the manufacturing multitudes of England; they must have work, and find markets for their work; if machines and the Black Country are ugly, famine would be uglier still.
The family is the school of duties – founded on love.
Every dogma, every philosophic or theological creed, was at its inception a statement in terms of the intellect of a certain inner experience.
The hero is one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by.
The past speaks to us in a thousand voices, warning and comforting, animating and stirring to action.
When you give of yourself, it’s draining.
The ethical manifold, conceived of as unified, furnishes, or rather is, the ideal of the whole.
There is a spell in mediaeval Art which has had power to bewitch some people into trying, or wishing to try, or fancying that they wish to try or making believe to fancy that they wish to try, to bring back the Middle Ages.