The art of progress is to preserve order amid change and to preserve change amid order.
Human life is driven forward by its dim apprehension of notions too general for its existing language.
Every philosophy is tinged with the coloring of some secret imaginative background, which never emerges explicitly into its train of reasoning.
Through and through the world is infested with quantity. To talk sense is to talk quantities, It is no use saying the nation is large how large? It is no use s aying that radium is scarce how scarce? You can not evade quantity. You may fly to poetry and music and quantity and number will face you in your rhythms and your octaves.
It does not matter what men say in words, so long as their activities are controlled by settled instincts. The words may ultimately destroy the instincts. But until this has occurred, words do not count. from Science and the Modern World
Nature gets credit which should in truth be reserved for ourselves: the rose for its scent, the nightingale for its song; and the sun for its radiance. The poets are entirely mistaken. They should address their lyrics to themselves and should turn them into odes of self congratulation on the excellence of the human mind.