Black are the brooding clouds and troubled the deep waters, when the Sea of Thought, first heaving from a calm, gives up its Dead.

Ideas are fatal to caste.

Any new formula which suddenly emerges in our consciousness has its roots in long trains of thought; it is virtually old when it first makes its appearance among the recognized growths of our intellect.

There never was an idea started that woke up men out of their stupid indifference but its originator was spoken of as a crank.

A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on. Ideas have endurance without death.

The thinker dies, but his thoughts are beyond the reach of destruction. Men are mortal; but ideas are immortal.

Just as our eyes need light in order to see, our minds need ideas in order to conceive.

If you are possessed by an idea, you find it expressed everywhere, you even smell it.

A single idea, if it is right, saves us the labor of an infinity of experiences.

The ideas he put forward, familiar enough when clothed in their usual phraseology, emerged in his writing in a state of undress that had them look exciting and almost new, just as a woman whom one has known for years is always something of a surprise without her clothes on.