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| Hoyt & Roberts, comps. Hoyt’s New Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations. 1922. |
| Intellect |
| The hand that follows intellect can achieve. Michael Angelo—The Artist. Longfellow’s trans. | 1 |
| In short, intelligence, considered in what seems to be its original feature, is the faculty of manufacturing artificial objects, especially tools to make tools, and of indefinitely urging the manufacture. Henri Bergson—Creative Evolution. Ch. II. | 2 |
| Instinct perfected is a faculty of using and even constructing organized instruments; intelligence perfected is the faculty of making and using unorganized instruments. Henri Bergson—Creative Evolution. Ch. II. | 3 |
| For the eye of the intellect “sees in all objects what it brought with it the means of seeing.” Carlyle—Varnhagen Von Ense’s Memoirs. London and Westminster Review. 1838. | 4 |
| The growth of the intellect is spontaneous in every expansion. The mind that grows could not predict the times, the means, the mode of that spontaneity. God enters by a private door into every individual. Emerson—Essays. Intellect. | 5 |
| ’Tis good-will makes intelligence. Emerson—The Titmouse. L. 65. | 6 |
| Works of the intellect are great only by comparison with each other. Emerson—Literary Ethics. | 7 |
| Thou living ray of intellectual fire. Falconer—The Shipwreck. Canto I. L. 104. | 8 |
| Glorious indeed is the world of God around us, but more glorious the world of God within us. There lies the Land of Song; there lies the poet’s native land. Longfellow—Hyperion. Bk. I. Ch. VIII. | 9 |
| A man is not a wall, whose stones are crushed upon the road; or a pipe, whose fragments are thrown away at a street corner. The fragments of an intellect are always good. George Sand—Handsome Lawrence. Ch. II. | 10 |
| The march of intellect. Southey—Sir Thos. More; or, Colloquies on the Progress and Prospects of Society. Vol. II. P. 361. | 11 |
| The intellectual power, through words and things, Went sounding on, a dim and perilous way! Wordsworth—Excursion. Bk. III. | 12 |
| Three sleepless nights I passed in sounding on, Through words and things, a dim and perilous way. Wordsworth—Borderers. Written eighteen years before Excursion. | 13 |
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