All deep things are song. It seems somehow the very central essence of us, song; as if all the rest were but wrappages and hulls! – Thomas Carlyle
The crash of the whole solar and stellar systems could only kill you once. – Thomas Carlyle
The illimitable, silent, never-resting thing called Time, rolling, rushing on, swift, silent, like an all-embracing ocean-tide, on which we and all the universe swim like exhalations, like apparitions which are, and then are not…. – Thomas Carlyle
The hell of these days is the fear of not getting along, especially of not making money. – Thomas Carlyle