Is it a fact — or have I dreamt it — that by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great… — Nathaniel Hawthorne
Is it a fact — or have I dreamt it — that by means of electricity, the world of matter has become a great nerve, vibrating thousands of miles in a breathless point of time? Rather, the round globe is a vast head, a brain, instinct with intelligence: or shall we say it is itself a thought, nothing but thought, and no longer the substance which we dreamed it.
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Of all the events which constitute a person's biography, there is scarcely one — none, certainly, of anything like a similar importance — to which the world so easily reconciles itself as to his death.
The world owes all its onward impulses to men ill at ease. The happy man inevitably confines himself within ancient limits.
What other dungeon is so dark as one's own heart! What jailer so inexorable as one's self!
